The Warren
by DarkKing666
Summary: My dump-space for unfinished and/or abandoned plot bunnies.
1. Overused Plot Device

I don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does, as far as I know.

Authors note: this came up after I read yet another "Harry goes AWOL when he should be at Privet Drive" fanfic plot.

It was a peaceful day at the Order of the Phoenix's "Headquarters" until Nymphadora Tonks tumbled out of the floo, looking panicked.

"Harry is gone! I checked his room this morning and he'd disappeared!"

This statement drew concern from the Order members present. Strangely, Harry's closest friends just glanced at each other before going back to what they were doing.

"What's the matter with you lot? Aren't you worried about poor Harry?" Cried Molly Weasley.

"Not really. It's not like Harry hasn't gone off by himself before." Ron responded.

The adults in the room gaped. "Just what do you mean by that?" Demanded Remus.

Ginny looked at the "smartest witch in Hogwarts". "What do you think, Hermione? Another holiday disguised as Black? Hunting weird creatures with Luna and her younger self again, maybe? Or another case of time travel back to when the Founders created Hogwarts?"

"I'm betting on another tour around the French speaking magical world. Gabrielle is a really determined young witch, and her father is almost as determined at keeping Harry away from her." Was the bushy-haird witch's reply.

"Nah, that's what he did last time. I'm betting he's gone back to that Quidditch Training Camp in the USA that he owns. He loves it there." Was Ron's offering.

"Got to be better than curse-breaking with Bill in South America," Ginny muttered, "he got really beaten up doing that."

Arthur Weasley finally managed to stop gaping (which put him far ahead of the other adults in the room) and managed to ask a question. "You mean Harry's done all this before? When?"

Ron snorted. "Hey, he hasn't spent more than 15 minutes at Privet Drive since he started at Hogwarts. Makes you wonder what the monitors in Dumbledore's office are doing; the blood wards disappeared years ago."

"Not to mention that he's also taken to leaving a clone at Hogwarts to take his lessons for him," Hermione sighed, "some weird magic he picked up in Japan. I'd yell at him for it except that he somehow manages to learn everything his clone learns so he isn't exactly skipping classes."

Ginny decided that the adults in the room were too close to freaking out, and that a full-blown panic attack might delay dinner. "Just relax. Harry will be fine, he's got more than enough friends out there to keep him safe. Plus he's learned more during his little disappearing acts than any of us could learn from Hogwarts. He'll be back on the Express on September 1st, and then we can all pretend that nothing weird has happened. Again."


	2. Blood Wards can be REALLY strong

I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does as far as I know.

Authors note: this one plays on a common fanfic concept that the Blood Wards at Privet Drive are useless. Maybe they weren't...

Harry was lying on the uncomfortable bed in his room. The house was quiet, which suited Harry just fine. The quiet meant that his "loving" relatives were all out, and weren't disturbing him. Harry wanted to be left alone, as his depression over the loss of Sirius was eating at him.

Being isolated from his friends didn't help. Hermione and Ron had both written stating that not only had they been told to avoid communicating with Harry this summer, but that they were both being denied access to any form of communication at all. Apparently it was for "their own safety" as various adults had decided that fighting Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries might have made Harry's friends targets.

_No shit, Sherlock,_ Harry thought, bitterly. It had only taken a running battle in the Department of Mysteries, the destruction of thousands of prophecies, the death of Sirius Black and a full-blown wizarding duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort in front of Fudge for the wizarding world to finally wake up to the fact that He-Who-Must-Be-Hyphenated had returned.

_Shame it took them over a year to decide that Dumbledore and I weren't being delusional._ Harry mused. He was, he thought, justified in his anger and depression. Anger that the wizarding world's insistence on burying its collective head in the sand had cost him so much, depression that his own mistakes had contributed to Sirius' death.

This day in particular had been especially lousy. He'd been woken up early by Vernon shouting at him through the door. Once the insults and threats had been edited out, the message was that the Dursleys were all headed off to visit Aunt Marge and her hellhounds. Apparently dear old Marge refused to visit Privet Drive anymore, not after the little "balloon incident".

When Harry had finally gone downstairs (having waited until he'd heard the car leave), he had discovered that he'd been left with virtually nothing to eat. After an inadequate breakfast of toast and tea, he'd done the chores left for him before returning to his room.

_I'll have to signal my watchdog later to get something decent for lunch/_ Harry thought. _My only other option is to starve._

The lack of food that morning, combined with Vernon's shouting and the effort involved in finishing his chores, had left Harry with a headache. Unwilling to put up with anything else making him miserable, he'd broken an unwritten rule of the household and had taken some aspirin from the cabinet in his Aunt's bathroom. Normally this was forbidden, as apparently "good medicine" wasn't to be wasted on "freaks" like Harry.

_I just wish the damn Aspirin would start working soon,_ Harry grumbled in his own mind. _I haven't had a headache like this since..._

Harry suddenly lurched upright. _This is no headache! My fucking scar! Shit, Voldemort is nearby!_

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Across the road from No. 4 Privet Drive, Nymphadora "Don't call me that" Tonks was waiting for her relief. She sighed quietly in satisfaction when she spotted Kingsley Shacklebolt walking towards her.

"The Phoenix burns brightly." Shacklebolt said as he came close to Tonks. _At least somebody in this bloody Order can act professionally._

"The Gryffins never waver." As a former Hufflepuff prefect, Tonks was mildly put out that most of the Order of the Phoenix's pass-phrases were biased towards the "house of lions".

"Anything I should know about, Tonks?"

"Nothing major. The Dursleys all left earlier. Harry did some chores before he disappeared back inside. I think we might have to bring him lunch later - from what I could see, his relatives didn't leave much food in the house."

Shacklebolt nodded. Most of the Order members who had been on "Potter watch" had a dim view of the Dursleys. The only exception seemed to be Dung, who spent most of his time sleeping.

"Alright. Well, you better get back to the Ministry. Madam Bones wants - what the hell?"

The attention of both Aurors was immediately shifted to the end of the road, where a burst of magic had suddenly sprung from. It didn't take a genius to figure out what the cause was.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck - Death Eaters! And it looks like they brought their fucking boss with them!" Tonks swore. This was the last thing anybody had expected - if she had thought that Moldy-shorts himself might show, she would have brought some help. Like the entire Auror Corps.

Shacklebolt hastily sent off a Patronus. "I've sent for help, but Dumbledore said he was going on a trip today. C'mon, we've got to get Potter away from here before they - "

Shacklebolt suddenly stopped talking, as the two Aurors felt anti-apparition wards go up. This was quickly followed by anti-portkey wards, and both Aurors knew that the nearest Floo connection was some distance away. _Too far when we're facing a fucking Dark Lord,_ was Tonks' bitter thought.

"We're going to have to run for it. I'll provide a distraction, you grab Potter and go!" Shacklebolt ordered.

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Harry was hurriedly searching through his trunk. _Ah, there it is!_ He thought with some relief as he retrieved his wand. Dumbledore had demanded that Harry surrender his wand to the headmaster's safe keeping for the summer, arguing that Harry's best defence was to keep a low profile. Harry wasn't so sure, and had managed to slip Dumbledore a prototype of the Twins' "fake wand" concept. _Anybody_ _who tries to use that wand will get a rubber chicken_, Harry though with wry amusement.

He quickly assessed the rest of his belongings. _Books I can replace, Hedwig is at Hogwarts, my photo album and other valuables are with Hermione - time to get out of here._

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Tonks sprinted for the front door of Harry's residence. Shacklebolt was behind her, using a car for shelter. The Death Eaters, with Voldemort in the lead, were moving down the road towards No. 4 quite rapidly. _Bastards can move fast when they want to. Getting away from this is going to take a lot of luck._

She kicked in the door as she ran up to it; she didn't want to waste time fumbling with the doorknob when it might be locked.

"HARRY! GET YOUR ARSE IN GEAR! WE GOTTA GO NOW!"

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Harry was already halfway down the stairs when he heard Tonks' shout. He ran the last few steps, and saw a rather pale Auror looking nervous.

"How many?" He asked.

"Too many, and the bastard himself is here! We've gotta get out of here, now!"

Harry slipped around Tonks and glanced out the door. "I think we're too late for an escape, Tonks..."

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Voldemort was gleeful. The information he had received from Snape indicated that the Boy-Who-Lived was in a sorry state and incapable of defending himself. This had lead Voldemort to change his plans and attack Potter early - with the Prophesied Boy dead, there would be nothing left to stand in the way of his conquest. Dumbledore could be dealt with at Voldemort's leisure once his Golden Boy was six feet under.

He noticed somebody crouching behind a car. _Probably the brat's bodyguard.__ One lousy wizard won't be much of an obstacle._

"Attack!" He cried, as he sent a high-powered Reducto at the car. Caught up in the thrill of magic, he didn't notice the mild tingle that ran across his body as he approached No. 4 Privet Drive.

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Shacklebolt cursed as the front half of the car he was hiding behind was blasted into scrap. Fortunately the rest of the car stayed stationary. _Muggle__ studies paid off after all,_ he thought to himself, _fuel tank is in the back half of the car and won't rupture too easily_. While that eliminated the immediate risk of the car exploding, he knew that another Reducto like the last one would be all that was needed to set the volatile liquid off.

_OK, no fucking around with stunners here - try to get as many as I can!_ With that thought, Shacklebolt leaned out and sent a Reducto towards a group of Death Eaters. He ducked back behind his half-destroyed barricade, and didn't see his spell hit the ground and throw several Death Eaters to the ground.

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Harry and Tonks both winced as they saw the car explode. Tonks was sure that Shacklebolt had bitten the dust until she saw the smoke clear, revealing the veteran Auror launching a spell back at the Death Eaters.

"Shit! Harry, get out the back and run for it! We'll hold them off as long as possible!"

Harry didn't seem to hear her. He was distracted by something, a feeling of...something. He felt energised, like he could run an entire Marathon and not notice it.

"No way. You'll both be killed, and then they'll catch me anyway. If we get away we'll all have to work together. Let's go!" Harry bounded out of the house before Tonks could even register what he had said. Cursing to herself, she sprinted after him.

_I_ _hope reinforcements come soon, or they'll need a sponge to collect our bodies!_

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Voldemort frowned as several of his Death Eaters were thrown around like rag dolls by the Auror's blasting curse. _Damn idiots, I'll have to Crucio them later to remind them to pay attention in a battle!_

He sent another Reducto at the car, with the intent of finishing off the pathetic wizard hiding behind. Oddly, it felt harder to form the spell, and the explosion that resulted was a lot less powerful than his first curse. _That fight with Dumbledore took more out of me than I thought. No matter, I've power enough to finish these idiots off..._

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Harry's eyes narrowed as he saw the results of Riddle's second Reducto. _He should have vaporised the car with that second shot. Why didn't he put more power behind it?_

Deciding that Voldemort was probably playing with the Auror taking shelter behind the wreck, Harry turned his attention to the group of Death Eaters.

_Quite a group.__ No idea how good they are, Shacklebolt's idea of a Reducto seems to be good_.

Harry quickly cast the blasting curse at the Death Eaters. "REDUCTO!"

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Tonks watched as Harry sent a blasting curse down range. _Good plan, that spell has an area affect, it'll force the Death Eaters to keep their heads dow-_

Her thoughts were interrupted as Harry's spell hit the ground near the Death Eaters and subsequently exploded, leaving a crater 2 metres across and a metre deep in the road. _Fucking hell, what was that? Since when is Harry that powerful?_

Harry seemed to have been stunned by his own spell, so Tonks quickly sent a cutting curse towards one of the Death Eaters on the ground. _You knock 'em down, I'll dice 'em up!_

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Kingsley Shacklebolt was an experienced Auror, and had been in quite a few magical firefights before Voldemort's return. He had seen a number of powerful wizards and witches - many, he admitted, much stronger than himself - in action before. He had seen what high powered spells could do - cutting spells that disembowelled multiple people, stunners that knocked strong men out for days. But he had never seen a Reducto as strong as the one Harry had just cast.

_Bloody hellfire, that thing just blasted two Death Eaters to shreds! There's a third one down with only one leg! What the fuck have they been feeding this boy? No breakfast my arse!_

Tonks' cutting spell broke him out of his thoughts. _Back on the clock, Kingsley..._

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Voldemort was shocked. Firstly by the power of Potter's spell. _He wasn't nearly that strong at the Ministry! Has Dumbledore finally cracked and used a power-boosting ritual on the brat?_

There were rituals that could be used to boost the power of a wizard. They were all dark and illegal, as they invariably involved human sacrifice. Voldemort had investigated them once, but had discovered that they were all short-term in nature and usually had long-term damaging effects.

The more unpleasant surprise for the Dark Lord was that Potter had his wand. Snape had assured his Lord that Potter's wand was safely ensconced in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. It was that information that had given Voldemort the confidence to attack Potter early - he had been reluctant to force any encounters after the Priori Incantatem effect they had seen at the graveyard.

_Snape__ will pay for this deceit! Nothing for it but to push on - even with brother wands, two pathetic Aurors and a half-starved child can't defeat me!_

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Harry shook off his momentary shock and ran to try and find cover. _What happened to make that Reducto so strong? I've never seen anything like that before!_

A spell flashed by his head, forcing his concentration back to the battle at hand. He saw several Death Eaters down and bleeding badly; Harry assumed that the cutting spells from Tonks and Shacklebolt were working. He cast his own cutting spell, slashing to try and hit as many Death Eaters as possible.

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Tonks shuddered as the most over-powered cutting spell she had ever seen sliced through half a dozen Death Eaters at once. The spell continued down the street and succeeded in downing a power pole before it was stopped by a parked van. /_Something__ weird is going on - Harry's casting at a level to rival the Headmaster!_

Apparently Voldemort wasn't going to let Potter's display of power distract him, as the Dark Lord quickly replied with his trademark spell.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Tonks saw the green spell heading towards Harry, and quickly summoned a chunk of the car Shack was hiding behind to try and block it. She was amazed when the Killing Curse was stopped handily - the metal melted a bit but didn't explode. _Isn't he supposed to be stronger than this?_

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Voldemort's frustration was increasing. Not only was the brat casting at a level that should have been impossible, but his own spells seemed to be down on power. _Finish this fast before Potter decides to use his power-boost to do more damage to my followers._

Voldemort had always kept himself fit and athletic, recognising the value of mobility in a duel. He had spent most of the year between his rebirth and the battle at the Ministry getting himself back into shape - his new body had required extensive work before he was confident about heading into battle. Coupled with wandless magic that helped speed his actions, the Dark Lord was capable of moving rapidly over a battlefield. This had helped him win on many occasions, as had been able to surprise his enemies by appearing where they didn't expect him.

Voldemort sprinted directly at Potter, casting another killing curse at close range.

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Harry saw Voldemort move at an inhuman pace directly at him, and barely had time to register that Riddle had cast another killing curse straight at him. Reacting on instinct, he cast a spell back to try and block the incoming hex. "EXPELLIARMUS!"

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Tonks and Shacklebolt had heard Dumbledore talk about the Priori Incantantem effect that brother wards could have, but neither had seen it before. The dome appeared rapidly, and they saw the two spells duelling for control. _C'mon Harry, you can do it! Beat that fucker into the ground!_

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Inside the dome, Harry and Voldemort were in somewhat familiar territory. Both remembered what had happened at the graveyard, and both could hear the Phoenix song that had manifested the first time. On this occasion, however, it felt different to both participants.

Harry felt like he was drawing on a practically unlimited reservoir of power, completely different to his previous experience with this kind of confrontation. At the graveyard he'd been tired from the maze and from Cruciatus exposure, and had barely been able to hold his own against the more experienced wizard. Now, however, he felt like he could do this for hours. He steadily pushed his magic, trying to force the spell back into Voldemort's wand.

Voldemort, on the other hand, was close to panic. He hadn't felt this weak and helpless since he had left the orphanage. He was putting everything he had into his wand, but he could feel his power being pushed back steadily.

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Tonks watched as the glowing ball that marked the point where the two conflicting spells met moved relentlessly towards Voldemort. _Great Merlin! Harry just might win this!_

Suddenly Voldemort seemed to falter, and the nexus of power surged back into his wand. The Dark Lord screamed as his wand exploded, but it didn't stop there. The golden light seemed to burn its way through his arm and into his chest, until it exploded. Both Tonks and Shacklebolt were temporarily blinded by the sudden burst of light, and didn't see Harry fall to the ground clutching his forehead.

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At Hogwarts, Snape suddenly clutched at his left arm and screamed as if somebody were cutting it off with a rusty saw. A Hogwarts house-elf who had been assisting the Potions Master with the brewing of Skele-Gro for the Hogwarts Infirmary stared as her master dropped to the ground in agony, before it popped away to get help.

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Dumbledore was at the Gaunt house, and finally had the Gaunt family ring in sight. _Evaded or bypassed all the wards and traps so far, now to grab the ring and get back to Hogwarts._

Suddenly, the ring seemed to glow. Dumbledore barely had time to get a protective barrier up before the dark artefact exploded, sending shrapnel across the room.

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In a Gringotts vault, a cup bearing the Hufflepuff coat of arms suddenly exploded.

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In the Room of Requirements at Hogwarts, Lady Ravenclaw's diadem blew up.

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At the Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort had temporarily set up his headquarters, a giant snake known as Nagini thrashed around as it felt itself burning up. Nobody nearby noticed it spontaneously burn to a cinder, as they were all clutching at their Dark Marks as they seemed to burn with all the pain of the Cruciatus.

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At Number 12 Grimmauld Place, a locket in a display cabinet exploded, shattering the glass and attacting the attention of the residents of the house.

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Back at Privet Drive, Tonks and Shacklebolt finally recovered enough to take in the situation. They same a few burning rags that seemed to be all that was left of Voldemort. Further down the street, the remaining Death Eaters were all lying on the ground, apparently unconscious. Harry Potter was unconscious on the ground in front of them, apparently bleeding from his forehead.

"I'll take the Death Eaters, you get Harry to Hogwarts!" Shacklebolt ordered. Tonks gulped and nodded, and created a portkey for the Hogwarts grounds. Grabbing Harry, she activated it.


	3. The Apathy Cup

I don't own Harry Potter. Or any of the other characters used here.

Dumbledore's eyes had their customary twinkle as he looked at the traditional end of year feast. The students were gathered at their house tables, apparently enjoying the food and talking animatedly. Smiling to himself, the aged Headmaster stood up and shot off some sparks to get everyone's attention.

"Well, it has been another enjoyable year here at Hogwarts..." he began, using "End-of-year Speech No. 6" this time around. He had eight in total, enough that no student ever heard the same one twice...unless they became staff members. Pity those who did.

Dumbledore's speech was short and to the point. The usual 3 second "highlights of the year" coverage (mostly Quidditch related), some cryptic comments that some interpreted as pearls of wisdom but most considered to be pure bollocks, and then to the important part.

"...and now, it is my happy role to announce the winner of this year's House Cup. In fourth place, with-" Dumbledore stopped mid-sentence as three quarters of the Hall's occupants suddenly turned back to their food. The room became noisy again as the students of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff all resumed their conversations.

Dumbledore frowned. While he wasn't the strictest of disciplinarians, this kind of disrespect just wasn't acceptable. Gesturing with his wand, he let off a "cannon blast" spell to quiet the hall. Conversation stopped again, as everyone returned their attention to the Supreme Mugwump.

"As I was saying, in fourth place with-" Dumbledore again stopped before he could announce that Hufflepuff had managed, for the fifth year in a row, to come fourth. The reason was the same - with the exception of those in House Slytherin, nobody was paying the slightest bit of attention to anything except their food or the conversations at their table.

Another cannon blast, and Dumbledore tried for the third time to announce the House Cup results. "Ahem. In fourth place-" The Headmaster was cut off by 75% of the students suddenly ignoring him in order to talk to their neighbours. Albus glanced at his fellow staff-members, and saw that they all apparently agreed with his disapproval of this blatant show of bad manners.

The problem was that there wasn't much the staff could do. Albus had already used two cannon-blast spells to bring attention to himself, and it was obvious that the student body just didn't care. The feast itself was all but over,  
meaning that they couldn't threaten to ban anyone from the food. And as it was the end of the year, there was no chance to assign detentions.

Dumbledore decided to continue on regardless of the background noise. "In fourth place is Hufflepuff, with 200 points. In third place is..." He rattled off the point summaries, fully aware that the only people paying even the  
slightest bit of attention were the Slytherins. When he finally announced that Slytherin had won the cup for the fifth year in a row, the cheers from the Slytherin table went without comment as the other three houses seemed more  
interested in discussing the upcoming summer holiday. Fuming internally, Dumbledore decided to do the one thing he could to discipline the misbehaving students.

"Thank you. And now, in closing, I would like all students in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to meet with their Heads of Houses in their respective common rooms after this feast is over."

Sitting down again, Albus caught the eyes of Minerva, Filius and Pomona. He didn't need to say anything - they already knew that they would have to get to the bottom of this disgraceful event before the students went home.

* * *

The students had left the castle, and now the Headmaster was in his office. In attendance were all four Heads of House, none of whom looked particularly happy.

Albus finally let his irritation show. "Right, now what in the name of Merlin was behind that appalling display at the Feast? I do hope that at least some explanation was given?"

Minerva, Filius and Pomona exchanged glances before the Head of Ravenclaw spoke up. "The reason my 'claws gave me, Albus, is that they have no interest in the House Cup at all. They said it is a complete waste of everybody's time, and that ignoring it was the best way of getting their message across."

Pomona nodded. "My 'puffs said much the same thing. They told me that the Cup is meaningless, and that they had decided that paying any attention was a pointless exercise."

Dumbledore was thunderstruck. "What do they mean, the House Cup is pointless? It has been the cornerstone of the House system since Hogwarts was founded!"

Minerva decided that it was time to add her two knuts' worth. "My students told me that House Cup is completely broken, Albus. When I asked what they meant, they said that the staff in this school are hopelessly biased and as such only one house can ever win. Because of this, they've decided that the only House competition worth trying for is the Quidditch Cup, as it is won by skill alone with a minimum of cheating."

As one, the Heads of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor all turned and glared at Severus Snape. He just snorted in response.

"Now, Minerva, I know that Snape's methods are unusual, but-" Began Albus.

"Unusual be damned! His bias and discrimination is an absolute disgrace, Albus! In the five years that he's been here, he has managed to completely erode any  
faith the students have in the House system!" Interjected Professor Sprout, earning herself a glare from the Head of House Slytherin.

"The Slytherins have a bad reputation following the unfortunate events of a few years ago, and need special handling-" Dumbledore tried again.

"Special handling? You're creating a generation of spoilt brats! The Slytherins graduating this year are firmly convinced that they deserve to have everything handed to them on a silver plate because of their house affiliation! You aren't doing anything except to make the gulf between the Slytherins and the other houses even larger!" Filius burst out.

After that the argument degenerated into a shouting match with Snape on one side and his fellow Heads of Houses on the other. In the end, nothing was resolved and everybody went away feeling angry.

A/N: Inspired by an idea floated by Sarah1281.


	4. Sauce for the Goose

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters contained here-in.

A/N: A follow-up to the "Apathy Cup" I posted earlier. This, to me, is the logical outcome of the situation.

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Albus Dumbledore would never admit it, but beneath his twinkly exterior he was immensely relieved. He had been stressed lately - frankly, he hadn't been this stressed since Voldemort died. And for once in his life his trouble had not been caused by a Dark Lord.

The issue was that since the end of the previous school year, his senior staff had been engaged in some of the ugliest arguments (some of which were better described as screaming matches) ever seen in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.  
More than one portrait of a previous Headmaster had commented that they had never seen the staff so divided in all their time at the school. One had even congratulated Dumbledore for arranging to provide the portraits with so much entertainment.

It wasn't as if Albus didn't know what the problem was. In essence, Snape's blatant favouritism towards his own house (and discrimination against the other three) had finally pushed his fellow staff members over the line. Though it had taken the disgraceful display by the departing students at the last Leaving Feast to bring the issue to a head - once it was obvious that the students didn't think the House Points system was worth a tin sickle, the staff were forced to examine the reason why.

The "reason" was obvious, and even had a name. Severus Snape.

So much had been apparent at the meeting Dumbledore had thrown after the students had departed. What had kicked off the long-running dispute was that Snape refused to change his methods and Albus didn't want to interfere. Naturally, the heads of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were not happy.

The arguments had continued right up until the staff departed for their own summer holidays. It had kicked up again as soon as they returned to prepare for the new academic year. Albus had despaired for the education of the students, but it seemed that a cease-fire had been called on the 31st of August. Since then, there had been no arguments...though Snape's reception at staff meetings could at best be described as "chilly".

Dumbledore did not want to reveal his real reasons for not reining in his Potions Professor. His public reason was that the bad reputation surrounding the House of Snakes following Voldemort's reign of terror required special handling in order to avoid alienating all Slytherin students permanently.

The real reason was complex. In part it was due to Dumbledore's guilt over how Snape had been treated during his time as a student at Hogwarts. Albus still regretted that he had never intervened to make life easier for the Half-Blood  
Prince, and often wondered if he could have prevented young Severus from ever joining the Dark Lord if he had.

The larger part, however, was that Dumbledore wanted Snape to be in a position where he could act as a spy in the camp of those who supported Voldemort. The Dark Lord would return, Albus was sure of it, and he wanted a source of  
information to be ready to go from the start. As such he kept Snape in the one position that he knew would allow Snape to remain in Pureblood circles. As an apparent confidant of the Leader of the Light, Snape was useful to the likes of  
Lucius Malfoy as a potential spy. Take that away and Snape was suddenly just another Potions Master - albeit a brilliant one. Sadly, Malfoy and his ilk did not respect talent like that, only position.

Of course, Dumbledore would sooner run buck-naked through an Acromantula colony before he would admit any of this to anybody. And he would certainly never inform his staff of just why he tolerated Snape's behaviour, even if several of them had served the Order of the Phoenix faithfully when Voldemort was still alive.

The frustrating thing was that Snape had to be this biased in order to curry favour with the darker elements of Pureblood society (who were all Slytherin alumni). Apparently the Pureblood elites felt that there was no point in having  
a position if you couldn't exploit it, therefore Snape was to do everything he could to make sure that Slytherin retained its rightful position...on top of the other three houses.

It hadn't actually occurred to Albus that maybe Snape didn't have to be quite so extreme, and that the real cause of the bias and discrimination was actually Snape's foul disposition and the enormous chip on his shoulder that threatened to turn him into a hunchback.

* * *

It was the beginning of October, and Albus was puzzled. The House points were...odd. A summary of the day's points movements was available to the Headmaster on request, but up until recently he had never bothered to check. The events of the Leaving Feast had caused him to at least check every once in a while. And what he saw left the Supreme Mugwump confused.

Normally, points shifted in small increments - five points at a time, either positive or negative. Individually it wasn't much, but over the entire student body these small rewards (or penalties) added up.

This year, however, it seemed that large movements were the rule. 50 points at a time was not unusual, and there were even a few 100 point changes - unheard of in the history of Hogwarts...for a single student, at least.

The reporting system was not sophisticated enough to tell Dumbledore exactly what was going on - he could not see who was awarding or taking points or the stated reasons for these changes. Those were all recorded in the Hogwarts House Cup Register, an enormous tome secured in a hidden room of the Library. It was said to have been enchanted by Rowena Ravenclaw herself, and it automatically tracked every single points change in Hogwarts. Nobody ever looked at it thanks to the gigantic size - even opening the book required two people and a step-ladder. Nevertheless, Dumbledore decided that a proper investigation was required. He asked an elf to bring a step-ladder to the Library, and set off to ask Madam Pince for help with the enormous book.

* * *

Albus eyed the three people sitting in his office. It hadn't taken very long with the Cup Register to determine that the unusual activity was arising from the actions of Minerva McGonnagal, Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout. Well, and Severus Snape, but Albus dismissed that as the Head of Slytherin being himself.

"Would any of you three care to explain just what is going on with the House points this year?" Dumbledore asked with just a trace of acidity.

Minerva answered promptly. "It is simple, Albus. Since you have not seen fit to ensure that there is a level playing field here in Hogwarts, we have acted to level it ourselves."

"What do you mean by that?" The aged Headmaster asked with a gimlet eye.

Flitwick spoke up. "We're just emulating our esteemed colleague. If unjustified point reductions for houses other than your own and biased point awards for your own house are acceptable for House Slytherin, we have decided that they're good enough for us as well."

Dumbledore paled slightly. "What...?"

Professor Sprout cut him off. "We all met the day before the students returned here, and we've decided on a strategy to deal with Snape's despicable bias. All of us will favour our own houses just as Snape favours Slytherin. We will be scrupulously fair to the other houses, except for Slytherin...where will will be just as biased and unfair as Snape is to our own houses."

Flitwick spoke again before Albus could get a word in edgewise. "In that way we level things. Snape's unfair point reductions are cancelled by our own unfair point awards. Likewise, the unjustified point awards given to Slytherin by the  
Potions Professor are removed by our own actions. In this way the playing field has been returned to a level state."

Minerva nodded. "It is true. The current point totals are where they would normally be if all staff in this school acted fairly and without bias. It is sad that we've had to blatantly game the system to achieve this result, but there you go."

Dumbledore wasn't sure if he was angry or lost in admiration. Still, this just wasn't acceptable.

"You can't do this! You'll completely alienate everybody in Slytherin-"

Filius cut him off. "They're already alienated, Headmaster. They were alienated by Snape. His blatant bias caused students in the other three houses to hate Slytherins for their privileged status. This ruined any chance a Slytherin student may have had for making friends outside of their own house. Furthermore, the unfair system has made Slytherin students feel that their house affiliation means that they deserve privileged treatment - and that the other houses are somehow inferior. Whatever we do at this point cannot make the situation worse, as Snape has already done a brilliant job at turning every non-Snake in this school against his own house."

Seeing that Albus was going to try and pull the morality card, Minerva decided to pre-empt him. "You created this situation, Albus. You allowed Snape to run riot with the House points and this is the result. Students in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw all resent those in Slytherin for the unfair treatment. Slytherins have all developed a superiority complex thanks to being spoilt. We cannot change those attitudes so long as Snape refuses to act in a fair manner - all we can do is try our best to prevent him from stealing the House Cup. If you want real change, your first step should be to force Snape to stop favouring Slytherin the way he has. Until then this school will remain divided."


	5. Nine Princes in Hogwarts

I don't own Harry Potter or the Chronicles of Amber. If I did I would be a lot richer than I am.

Dumbledore's serene visage was familiar to all who had met him, but today his closest colleagues could see signs of the great stress the old wizard must be feeling. After all, it wasn't every day that a student's guardian turned up to issue a personal "please explain" message...and actually had enough clout to make the Headmaster listen.

"OK, let's take this from the top. The Triwizard Tournament is an inter-school competition that has been around for some time, correct?"

Dumbledore just nodded.

"Fine. And it has been dormant for the past century or two?"

Dumbledore was tempted to give the exact period of time involved, but decided that pedantry wasn't advisable. So he just nodded again.

"And according to everything that's been written about the Tournament, it was abandoned because the casualty rate was too high?"

Bagman decided that it was time to intervene. "Well, not exactly..." He trailed off as Dumbledore's interrogator turned his full attention on him. It was distinctly unpleasant, as it gave the impression that Bagman was being sized up for a coffin.

"So, in spite of this you bring it back this year. But to make it more attractive in the eyes of the public, you restrict it to students who are adults in the eyes of the law. You enforce this restriction with a magical barrier that screens on the basis of age. Correct?"

"Oui, zat is correct." Madame Maxime's accent was more pronounced than usual, thanks to the tense atmosphere.

"And yet...when my ward discovers that his name has not only been entered but has also been chosen - as the fourth participant in a three-person competition - you not only ignore your age restriction, but force him to compete?"

"Actually, it is the magical contract created by the Goblet of Fire that is forcing young Harry to compete..." Dumbledore started.

His interrogator interrupted. "That's Lord Potter to you, Headmaster. And as far as I'm concerned, magical artifacts that force people into doing things they don't want to do should be destroyed. Then it couldn't enforce this so-called "contract" you keep rabbiting about."

Dumbledore struggled to keep his internal panic hidden. He didn't know that it was as clear as day to Harry's guardian. "That would endanger all of the participants involved. We cannot take that risk."

There was a snort of disbelief. "So you say. Obviously withdrawing Harry from this useless competition isn't something you're willing to entertain, so let's talk about damage control. First of all, why hasn't anybody made a public announcement that Harry did not enter himself into the Tournament and is, in fact, the victim of a conspiracy?"

Snape's sarcastic drawl entered the conversation. "We don't know that. The egotistical brat might have done it, and is now denying it to keep out of trouble-"

Unfortunately for the Hogwarts Professor of Potions, his favourite activity of deriding the son of James Potter was interrupted by the appearance of a sword at his throat. "I've heard plenty about you from my ward, and I'm not impressed. Say another word about him and I'll redecorate this office with an interesting colour called Hint of Greasy Git."

There was a short silence, broken by Dumbledore. "I think Mr Bagman will be making an announcement to the press to the effect that Lord Potter's involvement in the Tournament is against his will." Bagman nodded hurriedly. "I will make a similar announcement to the school population at dinner this evening. Is that acceptable?"

The sword lowered, and the glare returned to the aged Headmaster. "It'll do for a start. Now to address the fact that as a fourth year student, Harry is at a disadvantage when compared to his competitors."

Minerva McGonagall wasn't convinced that Harry was actually all that far behind his fellow Champions, but decided that antagonising this man was a bad idea. "Do you have a suggestion?"

This brought a smile, the first the visitor had given since entering Dumbledore's office. "Why, yes I do. I've read this bloody rule book, and as far as I can tell the only thing that Harry is compelled to do is participate. That's all that the magical contract enforces."

"So?" Karkaroff asked.

"So everything else in this book," The man waved a copy of the Tournament rules with some contempt, "is only enforceable by the judges. And that means that these rules are flexible."

The judges in question wanted to argue that the rules were the same as those used in previous Tournaments, and that there was no flexibility at all to be found in them. Common sense, however, dictated that the man with a large sword and a willingness to use it (plus a remarkable immunity to magic that had been discovered by one unfortunate auror) had a very good point.

Even if that point was mostly at the end of said sword.

"So. Harry will be allowed extra coaching from external teachers. He will also be allowed to use any equipment that those external teachers deem necessary. It is up to you to decide if the other competitors, who are actually old enough to compete, will be allowed the same considerations."

"What if we decide that the rules should apply equally to all, and are not flexible?" Dumbledore asked, wondering if there was room to compromise.

"Then I'll take to that bloody Goblet of yours with my sword, consequences be damned. My sister tells me that Harry will not be harmed by the wretched cup's destruction, and I find it hard to care about any possible backlash that may hit the other so-called Champions. That's my position. If you really want to escalate things I'll invite some real experts to examine the Goblet and figure out exactly how it has bound my ward and precisely how to undo it."

Dumbledore paused, before he nodded. "In that case I think we must accept. Harry will be allowed training from external teachers, and will be permitted to use any items that those teachers deem necessary. I will ask that Harry's teachers inform the judges of any equipment that they provide Harry."

"I'll ask them, but I can tell you now that they'll inform you only if they think you need to know." Harry's guardian replied.

Dumbledore nodded. There's _a lot to be said about negotiating from a position of strength,_ he thought, _and right now all the strength lies with the person I'm negotiating with._

"Very well, we accept. Mr...?" Dumbledore trailed off.

"Corwin. Prince Corwin, to you."


	6. Classroom control charms

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Harry Potter franchise or IP. And if you really needed to read this disclaimer to know that little factoid, please refrain from handling sharp objects.

* * *

Scene: the 1st year Charms class where Our Heroes learn "Wingardium Leviosa".

Ron waved his wand and tried again. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The feather remained on the desk, motionless. Ron just looked frustrated while Harry read through the prescribed textbook to see if there was anything that might help.

Hermione was just taking breath to "help" Ron when Professor Flitwick suddenly appeared by their desk.

"No, Mr Weasley, you are stressing the wrong syllables there. It is important to pronounce the spell correctly, otherwise it simply won't work. Worse, it might cast a different spell which you aren't prepared for. Now, once again: wing-GAR-dee-um LEV-ee-OH-suh!"

Ron tried again, and this time the feather moved about an inch above the desk before gravity took over.

"Well done, Mr Weasley! Just keep practicing and you'll be able to hold the spell for long periods." The Professor said.

Just as the diminutive Charms Professor was about to move off, Harry caught his attention. "What is it, Mr Potter?"

"I just wanted to know something. You were on the opposite side of the classroom when Ron tried this spell, and it is quite noisy in here. How did you hear his mistake from that distance?"

"Ah, there's the trick of teaching this subject, Mr Potter. It is true that I can't possibly listen to everybody at once while you're all practicing, so I developed a charm that would allow me to pick up errors quickly. I have it set up in this room all the time - it informs me whenever somebody is making a  
significant error, allowing me to assist those who truly need help. You can also use a variation of the spell to help you practice - it provides feedback on the most basic charms that we cover in 1st year."

Harry blinked. "That sounds useful. What is the charm called, sir?"

"Why, spell-check. What else?"


	7. Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Inspired by one of Lucinda's "Pottery Shards", story id: 5665736

I advise you to read that piece before this one. Here's my take on the scenario.

* * *

Contrary to the perceptions of the great unwashed, most negotiations between important magical families did not take place at Gringotts. While Gringotts did offer conference facilities, the fees charged for the rooms were more than just a bit expensive. Most important meetings were held in the private manors of the families involved, though there was the occasional "tense" meeting that might be held on a property owned by a neutral third party.

For Harry Potter, however, there was only one choice for the meeting he was attending today. Attending, ha, Harry had called this meeting himself, which meant that he was also supposed to be setting the agenda. Invitations had been issued to the Noble House of Malfoy (apparently they weren't Ancient yet, for all that they had records of members attending Hogwarts for the past 500 years), the House of Tonks (Ted Tonks had been surprised to be addressed as the Head of his family) and the House of Greengrass (Harry had heard that they couldn't be bothered spending the money required to get "Noble" in front of their name).

The nature of the attendees demanded not only a neutral venue, but one with added security. While Harry did not fear for his own health, he would rather that any temptation to use violence be quashed early. As such, he had made use of his status and booked a conference room at the Ministry of Magic.

Even had he not been the Hero-Who-Conquered (the latest set of hyphens the press had seen fit to force on him), Harry would have been entitled to the use of Ministry facilities thanks to his status as the Head of two Noble and Most Ancient Houses. The archaic nature of the Wizengamot meant that Lords like Harry could basically use a lot of the Ministry facilities as an extension of their own property - there were even private apartments set aside for individual families (Harry had inspected the Black Apartments and found that they lived up to their name). Naturally, privileges like these annoyed hard-working Ministry employees, who claimed that office space was so limited that they were doing the equivalent of "hot bunking" with their desks.

Not that this concerned Harry at the moment. He had picked out the conference room that was right in the heart of the Auror offices, primarily to ensure that the meeting attendees would feel constrained by the thought of heavily armed (and annoyed) Aurors being just outside the door.

Harry had arrived early, and had taken his position at the head of the long conference table. This seat also faced the door, which he knew was not an accident. Harry set his papers in front of his chair but did not yet sit down - custom required him to be standing to greet the other attendees as they arrived and he decided to save his legs a bit of effort.

Next to arrive was Nymphadora Tonks. Ted Tonks had sent word that neither he or his wife could attend, and that Nymphadora would be his representative. Said representative was in her full Auror uniform - the dress version for formal occasions, not her everyday work uniform.

"Hello Tonks. How are you?" Harry greeted the Metamorphmagus with a smile.

Tonks grinned back. "I'm fine, but you do realise that every Auror out there is pissed off that you've taken this room, don't you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? I had no idea that the Aurors had so many meetings on a daily basis."

Tonks' grin turned evil. "They don't. Most of the senior Aurors have taken to holding 'team meetings' at lunch time, as that allows them to get lunch in on the department budget. Your booking is for the entire day, so they're all going to have to pay for their own lunch for a change."

Harry made a mental note to look into the information that Tonks had just revealed. He knew that the Aurors were still infested with old Fudge cronies and Death Eater sympathisers, so any excuse to carve out the fat would be useful. _Something else to talk over with Neville_, he decided.

Neville Longbottom had been invaluable for this particular event. After his initial meeting with Daphne Greengrass, Harry had asked his fellow Gryffindor alumni for help regarding the issue. The result had been three days of Neville attempting to cram 14 years of political, social and ettiquette training down Harry's throat. In the end Neville had Harry at a point that he said was "acceptable", and let Harry go on condition that he return for "further education". The Boy-Who-Lived-In-A-Cupboard-For-Most-Of-His-Childhood wasn't looking forward to it, for all that he knew it was essential.

Harry just nodded to Tonks, before gesturing to the table. "Take a seat, anywhere. There's no assigned seating today, so first come best served."

The young Auror nodded, before taking the chair to the right of Harry's. Harry raised his other eyebrow, and was about to comment when the door opened again to reveal the Greengrass family. Harry promptly let his facial expression relax into what Neville described as a "negotiating expression", though Hermione had promptly called it a "poker face".

Apparently, Mr Greengrass was taking this meeting extremely seriously, as he had arrived with not only his entire immediate family, but also a lawyer. Harry recognised Mr Bernard Wise from the legal firm that he had been dealing with recently, though he had never engaged Wise in a professional matter.

"Mr Greengrass, a pleasure to meet you at last." Harry said, offering his hand in a manner that Neville had coached him on.

Michael Greengrass hesitated briefly, before he took Harry's hand. "Likewise, my Lord. I do hope that this meeting is productive for all concerned." Harry noted the formal statement that ultimately revealed nothing, even as the expression on the man's face spoke volumes. _He's very worried, and I don't blame him._

"Please, be seated." Harry gestured at the table again. The Greengrass delegation hesitated again, before occupying the seats to Harry's immediate left. Daphne Greengrass shot Harry an undecipherable look, before she turned to her sister and started a conversation about possible career paths following Astoria's NEWTs.

Ten minutes passed before the Malfoys arrived. Draco strode in first, acting as if he owned the place. _He got that from his father, who basically did own this place. Unfortunately, Draco, your old man is dead and incinerated, and you don't have nearly the influence here that you might think your name entitles you to._ Narcissa Malfoy looked bored, though Harry could tell that she was slightly embarassed by the attitude displayed by her son.

"Lord Malfoy, good of you to join us." Harry said formally, offering his hand again. Draco grasped it briefly, but made no reply. Instead, he turned to look at the Greengrass family with a slightly predatory gleam in his eyes. _Not fully versed in your traditions, Malfoy? Or do you just not realise the true nature of today's event?_ Harry pondered.

Harry greeted Narcissa briefly, noticing that she was on the ball when it came to the proper forms. The Chosen One then moved to his place at the head of the table, leaving Narcissa to take a seat next to Nymphadora Tonks while Draco sat opposite Astoria.

"Thank you, one and all, for your presence here. This meeting is to determine the future of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, especially as to how it relates to agreements struck with other families in previous years."

"Really, Potter? Then what are you doing here?" Draco asked in a dismissive tone. Harry simply stared at him calmly.

"I see that you are not aware of all the pertinent facts. As of the 15th of March of the year 1996, Sirius Black formally adopted me as his heir and successor. After his death in June of that same year, the position of Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black fell to me."

"Impossible! That blood traitor was disowned!" Draco half-shouted.

"Walburga Black did indeed blast his name from the Family Tree, but that was purely symbolic. She did not have the power or authority to expel Sirius Black from the family, as she was not the Head of the House. As Sirius' father never did anything to change his status, Sirius was still a member of the family. As the most senior male member following the death of Orion Black in 1979, Sirius became the de facto Lord Black."

"What about his conviction for murder?" This question came from Mr Greengrass.

"He was never convicted. Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban without trial. The Ministry is currently working to determine what compensation is now owed to the Black Family for this flagrant violation of the law." Harry replied. He noted that nobody seemed at all surprised except for Astoria Greengrass.

"To avoid protracted argument, I contacted the legal firm that was charged with handling Sirius Black's will. Mr Frank Morecombe has been very helpful, and has filed all the necessary paperwork with the Ministry to have me recognised as the new Lord Black."

Mr Wise raised an eyebrow. "I knew Frank was handling the will, but I had no idea that it related to you, Lord Potter."

Harry just nodded. "I am given to understand that the firm of Morecombe & Wise has been the Black Family's legal representatives for over a century now. Your colleague provided excellent service, and even went to the trouble to contact the Magical Office at the College of Arms to confirm my new position. They were kind enough to provide me with this."

Harry raised his left hand, where the Family Ring of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was firmly in place on his ring finger.

Draco sputtered a bit, before he managed to regain his powers of speech. "What about Gringotts? Have you asked them about the will?"

"My dear Lord Malfoy, you appear to be labouring under a misapprehension. Gringotts is a bank, and has no authority outside of the financial services they provide. Their only involvement with wills is as a secure place to store them. The Goblins have no interest at all in the legal processes that surround inheritance. The only interested parties are the Ministry and the College of Arms."

Draco flushed at the mild rebuke. Everyone else struggled to keep smirks, smiles and grins off their faces.

"Now that my position as the new Lord Black has been established, there are two important matters at hand. The first pertains to the House of Tonks - I believe you are here as the official representative of the Tonks family, Nymphadora?"

Nymphadora Tonks gritted her teeth at the use of her given name, and managed to suppress her instinctive demand to not use it. "That is correct, Lord Black."

"When your mother married Ted Tonks, she was officially cast out of the Black Family. This was due to the prevailing attitude of the Blacks at the time towards first generation wizards."

Harry noticed that the Greengrass family was studying Tonks with interest. _They're wondering how this might affect them._

"I find those attitudes to be abhorrent. That kind of thinking led to the recent difficulties that have beset the magical world, and there is no room for those views either now or in the future."

Nobody saw fit to comment that the "difficulties" had led to the extinction of no less than three pureblood families, as well as the deaths of a large number of Wizengamot members. The repercussions were still being worked through, and it was expected that the fallout would be felt for years.

"As such, I hereby restore Andromeda Tonks, née Black, to full membership of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. This means that Nymphadora Tonks is also considered to be a member of the Black Family." Harry stood up and handed over a rolled up parchment to Nymphadora. As she stood up to take it, he walked over and kissed her on both cheeks - an important bit of symbolism, according to Neville. Tonks blushed heavily, but otherwise made no comment.

Harry sat down, and resumed. "The other bit of business to be considered today is an old arrangement between the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and the House of Greengrass. I am given to understand that there is an arranged marriage organised, as part of a larger agreement."

Mr Greengrass nodded. "That is correct, Lord Black."

"Very well. Now, according to the information I have, Daphne Greengrass is already betrothed to Theodore Nott, and as such is not eligible for this arrangement."

Mr Wise decided to take over at this point. "That is correct Lord Black, and I have here documents to support the arrangement between the House of Greengrass and the..." He drifted off as Harry waved at him.

"No need, Mr Wise, your word and the word of Mr Greengrass is enough. I will not stand in the way of a marriage that is apparently greatly desired by both the participants and the families involved."

Daphne Greengrass looked slightly relieved. She was safe, even if Astoria's future still hung in the balance.

"Now, to the agreement itself. I have consulted extensively with Mr Morecombe regarding the nature of such arrangements, in order that I might fully understand what is involved. In the course of our investigation into this particular agreement, we discovered something that is particularly relevant."

"What is that, my Lord?" Mr Greengrass asked nervously.

"The agreement is the result of the Greengrass Family approaching the Black Family for both a business arrangement as well as services performed in the Wizengamot. As such, in this case the House of Greengrass are supplicants to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

"That is my understanding of the agreement," Mr Wise stated, "but how is this relevant to us today?"

Harry smiled. "The rules regarding these inter-family arrangements are fairly loose, and most are custom rather than law. Mr Morecombe discovered that as the Head of the petitioned House, I have a great deal of leeway in how I manage the conclusion of the pact."

"What kind of leeway?" Narcissa Malfoy asked. It was her first contribution to the discussion, and Harry noticed that she was looking faintly amused.

"In short, it is up to me to accept any potential candidates for the arranged marriage. I can specify which Greengrass daughter is to be married, as well as to which member of the Black Family said daughter will be wed to. But I can go futher..."

"Do tell." Mr Wise said blandly.

"All other aspects of the arrangement have been fulfilled already. The Black Family has rendered the services and favours asked for, and the Greengrass Family has made business arrangements and payments as required. The only outstanding aspect is the marriage."

"And?" Daphne asked. She seemed to know where this was going.

"It is entirely within my power to declare the payment received by the Black Family to be sufficient already. While it may seem that I am retroactively dictating terms, in this case I am not making new demands but simply declaring that old ones are no longer applicable. As such, I declare that the pact between the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and the House of Greengrass has been satisfactorily concluded, and that the arranged marriage is no longer required. I thank the House of Greengrass for their part in this pact, and wish them well in the future."

Draco Malfoy looked livid. "You can't do that!"

"Oh yes I can, Lord Malfoy, and there is nothing you can do to stop me." Harry interjected forcefully, cutting off Draco's impending rant. "I'm afraid you'll have to find a bride on your own. I know that the Noble House of Malfoy has no outstanding marriage contracts, and I'll be damned if I'll let you take advantage of any on the Black side of the family. Be thankful I'm not casting you out of the family for your past Death Eater activities."

Draco bristled and started to draw his wand, only to discover that Nymphadora Tonks already had hers out and trained on him. "Drawing your wand in anger, right in the heart of the Auror offices? My, you _are_ confident, Lord Malfoy."

Draco paused, before he withdrew his hand from his wand and stormed out of the room. Narcissa rose slowly, and moved towards the door at a more dignified pace. As she reached the door, she paused and turned to face Harry.

"Well done, my Lord. We really must talk again soon, in private. There are a great many matters pertaining to the Black and Malfoy Families that require our joint attention."

Harry nodded. "I'll try to make time for you soon, Lady Malfoy. Please be aware, however, that I will be very busy for the next few months." _Mostly taking lessons from Neville on how to handle this kind of crap._

Narcissa nodded. "Until later then, Lord Black." She then walked out in search of her anger-fuelled son.

Harry turned to the Greengrass Family, who looked pole-axed. "I trust this solution does not offend you?" He asked.

"Not at all, my Lord, but..." Astoria started, before she blushed.

"Please, this had nothing to do with your desireability as a potential wife," Harry started, "it has everything to do with my dislike of out-dated traditions that take away freedom of choice. If you and I should marry sometime in the future, so be it, but if we do it will be due to us wanting to do so - not because of any business contract signed decades before we were born."

Astoria blushed heavily, before she gave Harry a radiant smile. "I may take you up on that one day, Lord Black. Until then, I have NEWTs to study for..."

Harry smiled back. "Then we shouldn't take up any more of your valuable time. Shall we adjourn?"

* * *

My reaction to any "there's an arranged marriage that was signed 300 years ago" plot is "can't you just annul it somehow?". Especially as Harry is usually written as the new Lord Black/Potter/Gryffindor - surely such a position should have some power to make decisions attached to it.

Also, regarding Gringotts - this institution seems to have become the fanon place to do all business in the magical world. In my considered opinion, banks rarely get involved in sorting out inheritance issues - that's a job for lawyers, the Public Trustee and (for aristocracy) the College of Arms.

So, take this as my response to the "Gringotts does everything, including recognising who the legitimate Lord is" stuff that permeates a lot of Potter fanfics.


	8. Goldfish Bowl

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I doubt I ever will.

* * *

"Well. I must say I never expected to see you again, Tom."

"Shut up, Potter! Never use that name! I am Lord Voldemort!"

"Congratulations, you remembered the original anagram of your name! And here I thought your mind was simply rotting away after the way you abused it..."

"Silence! You dare to mock-"

"Oh yes, I dare alright. Face it, Tommy boy, we're here because you need me. You need my help, and I don't need yours. So here you are, cap in hand, come to beg for a favour from the one person you hate the most."

"I do not beg!"

"No, you demand. Well, you can demand all you want, Tommy, but it won't get you anything. Tell me, how long did it take for you to even notice my parting present?"

"..."

"Oh, go on! How long?"

"...4 months."

"That long? Wow, you must have been busy with the Ministry. I was expecting you to run into it the minute I left."

"What the hell did you do, Potter?"

"Ah, that's a bit of a long story. It starts when your minions conspired to have me sent to Azkaban for the murder of Cedric Diggory. I bet you got a kick out of that."

"It did seem...poetic."

"Very bad poetry if you ask me. Still, it had an unexpected side-effect. All those dementors hanging around did wonders."

"Explain."

"Well, I retained my sanity because I didn't feel guilty. Well, by the time I got there I didn't feel guilty. Mostly I felt angry at the idiots who get me sent to prison. So the usual problems associated with dementors didn't really apply to me."

"Speed it up, Potter."

"Such impatience. At any rate, with the constant exposure to dementors this lovely little link that you set up between our minds started to work in my favour."

"What link?"

"Oh, this is priceless. You didn't know that you left a piece of your soul in my famous scar?"

"What?"

"Yep. All those horcruxes you made left your soul in a poor state, so when your own killing curse bounced back...well, your soul split off a chunk again. It found the nearest available vessel - me."

"..."

"I love that expression on your face! Anyway, that's why my scar always hurts when I was near you. Apparently your soul wanted to get together for a reunion, and the pressure gave me a headache."

"I cannot believe that I could accidentally make a horcrux."

"Oh, I wasn't a horcrux. Not even close. I just had a chunk of your soul attached to me in a parasitical relationship. If you had actually made me a horcrux, it wouldn't have been so tightly bound to a specific part of my anatomy."

"Irrelevant! Souls don't just fragment when they are hit by Killing Curses!"

"Normally, no. They don't. But yours did, due to the way you had butchered it already. But now for the kicker..."

"What?"

"That soul bit set up a link between us. I'm sure that under normal circumstances you would have discovered this on your own and taken advantage of it. But that's where the dementors come into it - you see, the first time you used the link to touch my mind, it was accidental. You did it in your sleep."

"Why don't I remember this?"

"Because what you got was a full blast of the best a dementor can do. And while I was never wracked by guilt, you were. Oh, I'm sure if you'd been awake you could have handled it - but you were asleep. Your normal defences were down, and the exposure to dementors via our mind-link scared your sub-conscious. Scared it a lot."

"I fear nothing!"

"That's your conscious self speaking. Your sub-conscious isn't nearly as rational. It got a full dose of dementor aura and ran away from it - which is a pretty good response, all things considered. And before you rant again, remember that your unconscious mind had none of the protections you normally use to shield yourself from your dementor allies."

"..."

"Cat got your tongue? Or maybe your nose? Ha! That enraged expression is unbecoming, do calm down. To get back to it, that little episode made me aware of the link. At first I was very wary of it, but eventually I mustered the courage to investigate.

"I was surprised when I found that your mind had unconsciously retreated from the link. The more I realised that you were never going to attack me, the more I investigated it. I must have looked like a vegetable at that time, as I spent most of my waking moments delving right into my mind...and yours."

"What?"

"You keep saying that. Yes, Tom, I was routinely accessing your mind after a few months. You never seemed aware of it, probably your sub-conscious suppressing things it didn't want to remember. I was cautious at first, but after a while I was rifling through your brain like it was the local library."

"I can't believe this! My Occlumency barriers are strong enough to keep Dumbledore out, and you aren't a fraction the Legilimencer that he is!"

"It wasn't Legilimency. To be frank I'm not sure how you'd describe it, but the gist of it was that I had direct access to your mind that bypassed any Occlumency training."

"..."

"So I spent a few months trawling through your head. I learnt a lot of stuff - all the Hogwarts education I should have received but didn't thanks to manipulative Headmasters and bitter Potions Masters, a lot of Dark Magic that isn't on anybody's syllabus anywhere, plus more information about your personal life and history than I wanted to know about. That's where I got the information on your horcruxes, incidentally - and don't go and move them. I retrieved them all ages ago."

"...impossible."

"Clearly not. The ring, the locket, the diadem, the cup...the diary got destroyed in my second year. You can thank Malfoy for that."

"I'm going to kill him."

"You haven't yet? I'm surprised. Anyway, by the time you broke into the Department of Mysteries and stole the Prophecy, I had finished mining your head for knowledge and mostly just spent my time keeping up to date with the outside world by reading your mind."

"..."

"Of course, your little raid on the Ministry brought them all here to release me. Apparently I was now the Chosen One who was destined to vanquish you, so the likes of Fudge wanted me out and fighting for them. Too bad I had no intention of helping any of them."

"Oh? I had no idea you could be so vindictive."

"I learned that from the master. I had a plan, though, inspired by what I pulled from your mind. You see, all of your research into obscure or forgotten magic...it gave me ideas."

"Explain."

"There was so much that you just never followed up on. Horcruxes are just the start - there's a whole world of soul magic, and not all of it is harmful. Some of it is even beneficial. Plus wards, advanced healing magic, transfiguration on a level to make the greatest Master of the modern age look like a squib...it was all there, Tom. You touched on it, and you never followed it up. So I did, instead."

"How? You were stuck at Hogwarts in that year."

"Heh. Stuck, yeah. I had full access to every shelf in the Library. I forced that out of Dumbledore when he asked me to help. Plus I had friends outside of Hogwarts with excellent researching skills and almost bottomless pockets."

"The blood traitor and the werewolf?"

"Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, please. It was ironic that your little foray into the Ministry got Sirius exonerated, but even Fudge couldn't hush up over a dozen eye witnesses of Peter Pettigrew's involvement. I got the two of them on side - not that it took much, they were as disgusted with the sheeple as I was - and sent them off to do the research I couldn't get access to."

"..."

"By the end of my sixth year - which was really my fifth year at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore insisted that I stay with my peer group in spite of a year off at Azkaban - I had all of the knowledge I needed for my little plan. That year also gave me the time to make the contacts I needed to pull it off, as well as gather my true friends and allies together."

"What was this plan of yours?"

"You should know by now, Tommy, you've been feeling the effects for some time now. Fudge and Dumbledore had this wonderful idea that I would spend a year at Hogwarts getting trained to fight you, longer if possible. Then I would go out like a good little soldier and kill you for them. What they didn't know is that I had no intention of doing anything for that pathetic society that they were so desperate to preserve.

"Sirius Black's treatment was bad enough, but then sending me to Azkaban? A sham trial - no veritaserum, no priori incantantem on my wand, all of the witnesses called were so blatantly biased against me, running rough-shod over rules of evidence...no, I had my fill of the magical world of Britain. My friends all agreed with me, so they were very receptive when I explained my plan.

"I decided that if you and Dumbles were so intent to fight over the future of a pathetically inbred and stagnant culture, I would let you go for it. I just wanted to keep the collateral damage down. So, step one was getting all my friends - and their families - to leave Britain. The Turks and Caicos Islands were and are British territory of a sort, plus the climate is wonderful.

"Incidentally, I did all of this in consultation with Her Majesty's Government. Or the muggles, as you would put it. They were quite annoyed when I revealed that the disease that had killed so many citizens was actually the result of you unleashing dementors. They were all for resurrecting the witch burning approach, but I persuaded them to try my idea."

"Quit stalling! Tell me what you did!"

"Heh, as impatient as ever. What I did was create the most complicated ward ever devised. I won't get into the nitty gritty, far too complicated, so a quick summary. I prevented all magicals in the British Isles from leaving it, I stopped all magicals in the British Isles from interacting the non-magicals, and I put in a protection ward for anybody under the age of 17."

"..."

"I see you get the idea. I locked you all into your pathetic little world and threw away the key. After I had finished, you could all fight each other to your hearts' content as far as the world was concerned - the only people you could hurt were yourselves. The muggles were safe, magicals outside of Britain were safe, my friends were safe. What did I care for the people I left behind?"

"You truly did not care for the innocent?"

"What innocents? The sheeple could burn as far as I cared. They were all wilfully complacent and ignorant, leaving all of the big decisions to people like Dumbledore or Malfoy. I decided it would be an object lesson - this is what happens when you let other people do your thinking for you. And I must say that you make an excellent object lesson."

"..."

"So, here we are. You and Dumbledore have been locked in your little goldfish bowl for the past decade, and the rest of the world has gone on as if you don't matter. Because, really, you don't. I've been extremely happy in the Caribbean, and there is nobody in Britain I care about. The British Government is quite content, as the wards I left mean that you don't exist as far as they are concerned. And now, here you are...asking for my help. Why don't you tell me exactly what it is you want?"

"...the wards are killing us. You've stopped the influx of mudbloods into our world, and the population is crashing. I won the war quickly, but Dumbledore had sown the seeds of a resistance movement. So we've spent a decade fighting, losing people faster than they are born."

"I should have mentioned that I left a mechanism for the legitimate Government to identify all muggleborn and get them out of the country. They've got something similar to the old Hogwarts Registrar of Magical Births, but the one I created does not have the permanent Confundus charm that I layered on the Hogwarts copy. Which is why the school has had such a hard time sending letters out recently. Once the muggle authorities find the muggleborn wizards and witches, they contact me for portkeys to get them beyond my wards and out of the country. I mass produced several thousand of them shortly after I left - and don't go looking, because I have them hidden under a layered Fidelius. I believe there is a school in Canada that takes all the British muggleborn now, but don't quote me on that. So, you want me to drop the wards?"

"Yes! At this rate there will be no magicals left in Britain within a generation, two at the most!"

"And how does that concern me? Good riddance, that's what I say. Presumably the non-human magicals are doing OK?"

"The Goblins are gone. I seized control of Gringotts for myself, and those beasts we didn't kill tried to flee the country. No doubt they ran into your wards."

"Yes, unfortunately I couldn't distinguish between magical humans and magical anything-elses. Luna assured me that no migration patterns would be disrupted though, so it seemed a moot point."

"You can't leave us like this, Potter!"

"Oh, but I can. And I will. Incidentally, I should tell you that Dumbledore found out about my little present just hours after I left. Mostly because he tried to follow me and couldn't. Not even Fawkes could bypass the barrier I left, which surprised even me. He's somehow managed to track me down and sent me letters via the muggle post - mostly beseeching me to come back to Blighty and do his work for him."

"His work? You mean you don't believe the Prophecy?"

"No. Divination is a load of bunk. The only prophecies that ever work are those that have a lot of people working hard to fulfil, and guess what - I ain't working for this one. Besides, I've already done everything I need to do in relation to that little bit of drivel."

"Explain."

"Remember how I said that horcruxes were just the start? I know a lot more soul magic than anyone else on the planet. And when you combine that with the pieces of your soul that I managed to acquire..."

"What?"

"There's that word again. I could - and did - use your horcruxes to engineer a safe way of removing your soul fragment from my scar. Which neatly cut the link between our minds, incidentally, so don't bother trying to use it to your benefit. I also managed to set up an array that allowed me to funnel energy through your remaining horcruxes and the last one you created. Now you know why your pet snake went up in smoke."

"You were responsible for killing Nagini? You'll pay for that!"

"I fail to see how you're going to manage that, considering that we're both under Magical Oaths to not harm each other for the duration of this meeting...and I never plan to meet you again. You can't escape Britain to get at me, and I never plan on returning. And I doubt that you have the foreign contacts required to recruit an overseas force to deal with me."

"..."

"Nothing to say? That must mean I'm correct. So, as far as the damned Prophecy is concerned, I've done everything I need to. I vanquished you in 1981, and I've destroyed the only things that kept you from dying permanently. That whole 'neither can live while the other survives' bollocks referred to the chunk of your soul that was stuck in my scar - and I removed and destroyed that years ago. And here's a small hint - trying to create a new horcrux would almost certainly be fatal considering how damaged your soul is. Or what is left of your soul."

"Damn you, Potter!"

"Now you sound like Snivellous. That isn't a good image to present. At any rate, thank you for this small visit to my old homeland, but I have an urgent date with a witch I know, and this portkey is set to automatically trigger when I need to leave. Ciao!"

* * *

A/N: Yes, "Harry leaves Azkaban and abandons Britain" has been done before. Though I've never seen one where Harry and Friends leave Britain to let Tom and Albus fight it out between them in a way that can't hurt anyone else...the goldfish bowl comment was deliberate.

Also, I wanted to try and write an entire bunny as nothing but conversation.

Layered Fidelius: I didn't invent this idea so I won't take credit. The basic concept is to have a Fidelius protected item inside a Fidelius protected area. In this case, it would be something like "the house that contains Harry's portkey store is located at 12 Lovegood Avenue", and then "the trunk that contains Harry's portkeys is located in the dining room". Two separate secret keepers, two Fidelius charms.


	9. Scrimgeour's Last Stand

"Damn it," the relatively new Minister of Magic cursed as the wards pulsed, "bloody bastard has finally taken the gloves off. Nothing for it then - Operation Dagon!"

With that, the few Aurors who were standing about looking terrified suddenly lurched into action. They may have been under attack by one of the most powerful Dark Lords in modern history, but they had orders and people to protect.

* * *

Around the Ministry, a siren wailed. People who had frozen in place when the tell-tale feeling of collapsing wards had made itself known suddenly started to scramble towards floo fireplaces. Others activated emergency portkeys that had been issued in advance. A minority, all volunteers, opened special expanded cabinets and pulled out the equipment they would need for a last stand.

50 seconds after the Minister had launched Operation Dagon, all non-combatants had left the Ministry and those that remained were fully prepared to make the Death Eaters pay for every room in blood.

* * *

Voldemort's confident smirk evaporated as the first signs of resistance appeared in the form of cutting charms decapitating his vanguard. Cursing, he lead the counter-attack with a large blasting curse that sent body parts flying across the main entrance hall. He was forced to find cover as the Ministry defenders rapidly picked up their game and sent a barrage of offensive hexes towards the Death Eater force.

"Find cover and kill them!" Voldemort screamed, as a reductor curse narrowly missed his head.

* * *

Scrimgeour's already grim expression turned a touch darker as the sounds of combat reached him. A veteran Auror himself, a large part of him wanted to go out and join his loyal troops in the battle. Unfortunately, he was the Minister and the Minister had more important things to do in an event like this.

"...I repeat, this is the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. I hereby declare a Code Sea Lion. Please verify immediately."

"This is Major Hewitt of the Prime Minister's signals office. I confirm Code Sea Lion. All communications channels between Her Majesty's Government and the British Ministry of Magic will be sealed until Code Sea Lion has been rescinded according to the Merlin Protocols."

"Copy that. Goodbye." With that the Minister shut down the floo connection to Number 10. _The muggles know what is going on, at least. Now to contact the ICW and as many of our putative allies as I can reach..._

* * *

Voldemort was extremely annoyed. Scrimgeour's purges had cost him the sympathisers in the Ministry that would have allowed this assault to have been over already. As a result they were forced to fight for the Ministry practically room by room. This was not only time consuming, but also costly - he'd lost a good 14% of his effective forces already.

Now he'd discovered that there were a large number of non-Aurors who were joining the fight against his Death Eaters. And unlike the Aurors that had been in the first line of defence, these wizards and witches were using muggle weapons to supplement their lack of experience with offensive magic.

Normally he would have scoffed at the idea of muggle weapons being of any threat to a wizard, but the first hand grenade going off in an office filled with Death Eaters had been a serious wake-up call. His loyal followers were finding out the hard way that semi-automatic shotguns and submachineguns were more than lethal enough in enclosed area where aiming wasn't strictly necessary.

Fortunately he had some extra allies along who were not entirely reliant on shield charms that proved to be ineffective against high velocity lead.

"Send the trolls forward! Let them take out the scum, and then kill any survivors!"

* * *

Scrimgeour turned away from the floo, ignoring the clang of the metal grate that slammed across it. He was now stuck in this office, unless he wanted to leave the Ministry by the front door...which, of course, meant getting past Voldemort.

_That isn't part of the plan, naturally._ Rufus thought to himself grimly. _I wish I had a better plan, one that involved an escape route, but decades of corruption by the likes of Fudge means that the Death Eaters know the pre-established escape plans better than I do. No sense crying over spilt milk, though, I knew that this might be on the cards one day._

Scrimgeour strode over to his desk and destroyed the documents scattered on it. Pausing to check some of his personal equipment, he looked at the now cold floo.

_At least part of this plan worked. The actions of those out there fighting the Death Eaters bought me enough time to get the warnings out. Magical Britain will be sealed off until we can confirm that the Death Eaters are not a risk. Which reminds me..._

He opened a safe in the corner of his office and regarded the contents. Pulling out a sealed envelope, he calmly torched the rest of the contents. Applying a muggle stamp to the envelope, he ruefully examined the name written on it.

_We may not have had the best working relationship, but he's the best chance we have now. Good luck, Harry, I hope this helps..._

One flick of his wand later, and the stamp-turned-portkey had sent the envelope away to the only person who would ever stand a chance of bringing magical Britain out of its self-imposed isolation.

* * *

Voldemort's annoyance had blossomed into full-blown rage. He'd run out of trolls now; the defenders had discovered that even troll-hide is of little use against the shrapnel from hand grenades. His vampiric allies had also taken significant losses, to the point where only fear of Voldemort was keeping them in the fight.

_Damn Scrimgeour! He will pay for the life of every one of my followers who has died here!_

Behind him, his loyal followers trailed along in the wake of their lord. All of them hoping that the inevitable explosion of rage would not be directed at them.

* * *

Harry Potter blinked as an envelope suddenly appeared in front of him. _What the heck is this?_

Opening it revealed a large bundle of documents that seemed to be far too large to have fitted inside the envelope. Attached to the bundle was a letter addressed to Harry.

_"Harry, if you are receiving this then the Ministry has fallen to the forces of the Dark Lord. As Minister of Magic I have invoked Code Sea Lion, which has resulted in magical Britain being cut off from the rest of the world. All of the other Ministries of Magic have now erected wards that will prevent all forms of magical transport out of the British Isles. The only way to reverse this is to exercise the Merlin Protocols, which I have sent to you with this letter. Do not do this until the threat of the Dark Lord and his followers has been ended._

_I have also included all of Dumbledore's private files that I confiscated following his death. I hope that they will aid you, I know that nobody here has been able to divine anything useful from them._

_We at the Ministry will do our utmost to make the Dark Lord pay for this building with the lives of his followers. We will not get out of this alive, as the attached battle plans will show you. Finish the job for us, Harry, and make the bastards pay._

_Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic."_

* * *

It was over. Voldemort strode into the Minister's office with a triumphant look on his face. Before him was the Minister himself, bloody and beaten, held in place by Crabbe and Goyle.

"So, Minister, we finally meet. I was going to offer you the opportunity to continue as Minister under my new administration, but after the pointless resistance you ordered I am more inclined to find somebody else for the role. Unless you would care to beg for your life...?" The Dark Lord said menacingly.

"Go fuck yourself, Riddle." Rufus said, glad that he had that one small piece of information about the Dark Lord from Dumbledore's notes. "Britons never, never, never will be slaves." He finished by spitting in the face of the Dark Lord.

Voldemort's rage reached new heights. "CRUCIO!"

Scrimgeour screamed as the cruciatus curse destroyed his nervous system. As the curse ended, he was left panting on the floor. _Just a little more, you bastard, just a little more..._

"Now you see what resistance brings you...pain. And now death. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Scrimgeour's last conscious act before the green curse hit was to smile triumphantly. _Thanks, Tom, time for the finale._

As the curse hit, monitors on Scrimgeour's body detected that his heartbeat had stopped. This triggered a small rune cluster that had been surgically implanted in the small of his back. This cluster sent a signal to minor ward schemes around the Ministry building.

5 seconds after the Minister of Magic had died, canisters of VX gas exploded through-out the Ministry building. Other charms automatically engaged, sealing the building hermetically to prevent any of the lethal chemical from escaping into the outside world.

Voldemort saw the gas start to spread, and realised the potential danger. "EVACUATE!" He screamed as he activated an emergency portkey that had enough power to punch its way through the Ministry wards. His inner circle reacted in time and escaped with their lord using the same escape route, but those who could not hear that last, desperate order were not so lucky.

* * *

Harry sat down in front of a hastily gathered group of the Order of the Phoenix.

"What's going on, Harry?" Hermione asked. Her friend looked like Death warmed over.

"I received a message from Scrimgeour. The Ministry has fallen. His last act was to flood the entire building with nerve gas and seal it up in an attempt to take Voldemort with him. I doubt that he managed to kill the arsehole, but the Ministry is now gone."

Hermione paled. Those with little knowledge of the muggle world looked puzzled. "What is nerve gas?" Asked Daedalus Diggle.

* * *

**Author's notes:** Dagon refers to the Temple of Dagon, notable for the demolition job that Samson carried out.

"Sea Lion" was the code name for the planned German invasion of Britain in 1940.

VX gas is...well, Google it. Very nasty stuff, just 10mg is enough to kill a human.


	10. Never again

Random idea I had. I think I need a few dark one-shots to balance out the sweetness and light that is Ultimate Force.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter. Though I'd like to organise something with the Patil twins...

* * *

Albus Dumbledore looked uncharacteristically grim as he surveyed the scene. This was an improvement over the Auror team that was supposed to be investigating the obvious crimes that had been committed here - they were all busy throwing up.

In truth, Dumbledore couldn't blame them. They hadn't seen what he had witnessed during the muggle Second World War. He had been forced to investigate several German concentration camps on his way to confronting Grindelwald, including notable places such as Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen and Dachau. The memories of those locations were seared into his mind, and he dared not commit them to a pensieve for fear that somebody else might view them and be tormented by the true horror of what man could do to man when properly motivated.

He himself had not slept properly for the past 25 years. It took sheer willpower to avoid a Dreamless Sleep potion addiction.

The contents of the small house he was now visiting brought the worst parts of his history with Grindelwald back. It had been the home of a small magical family - two muggleborn parents and their children. It wasn't any more. The mother was dead, apparently after having been gang-raped. The healer's analysis - before the poor woman had gone into shock - was that the husband had been involved. There were signs of the Imperius curse on the poor man, though to Albus the look of horror on his face was enough evidence.

The young boy couldn't have been more than three years old. That hadn't stopped whoever had done this from nailing the child to the wall before using him as target practice for low-power cutting spells. It must have taken the poor child some time to finally die from blood loss.

The girl was slightly older, at 6. She too had been raped, in addition to extensive Cruciatus exposure. She had been finished off with the Killing Curse, which by the time it came must have been almost merciful.

The Headmaster turned from the scene of depraved violence and walked outside. Hovering over the house was a ghostly image - a skull with a snake protruding from the mouth. Apparently it was the calling card of whoever had done this. Albus' expression hardened slightly, as he turned to the senior Auror on duty - the only one who had control over his stomach.

"Well, Alastor, do you have any evidence as to who might have done this?"

Moody glowered. "Nothing I can use. All the evidence is circumstantial at best and isn't anything I could use to start a proper investigation. No witnesses. The spell traces are too vague. But I can give you a load of suspects who could probably give you chapter and verse with enough Veritaserum in them."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "What makes you suspect these people?"

Alastor shrugged. "Their public statements in the Wizengamot, their associations with like-minded individuals, suspicious behaviour that was only just innocent enough to keep them out of my reach...I have no doubts. I know who did this, or at least I know who would know the people who did this. I just don't have a shred of evidence that would allow me to take any official action."

Albus nodded. "Give me your list. I may have some resources that can help."

The grizzled Auror nodded. "I'll owl it to you once I'm back at the office."

Dumbledore nodded, before he turned and apparated back to Hogwarts.

* * *

"Mr Lestrange, we meet again." A pleasant voice stated. The kindly tone and banal greeting did little to off-set the unpleasant experience of being bound tightly to a chair.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lestrange demanded.

"I am told that you might know some things that I am interested in, Mr Lestrange. That is why I invited you here for a little chat." The voice continued, as a figure moved within Lestrange's field of vision. The bound man's eyes widened as he recognised his apparent captor.

"Dumbledore! What the hell are you playing at?" He half shouted.

Albus merely raised an eyebrow. "Playing? My dear boy, I stopped playing back in 1945, when I dealt with Grindelwald. This is no game, Mr Lestrange, this is an interrogation. You have information I need, and you are going to give it to me."

Lestrange scoffed. "What makes you think I'm going to tell you anything? Let me go, old man, and maybe I'll refrain from getting the Aurors to throw you in prison for the rest of your life."

"Amusing, you seem to think you have a choice in this matter." Dumbledore said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "You are going to tell me everything I want to know, and I have all the tools required to get that information. I have many questions, starting with that tattoo on your arm and working through to what you've been doing with your spare time lately. And just to make sure..."

The kindly old Headmaster produced a small bottle from a pocket. Lestrange's eyes widened as he recognised the label.

"Veritaserum, Mr Lestrange. I know you have no resistance to it. Now let's make sure you get three drops and no more, I don't want you to die before I'm finished..."

Two days later, Lestrange was found wandering down the main street of Hogsmeade with no memory of what had happened to him. Nobody picked up on the small traces that indicated ingestion of Veritaserum, and nobody was qualified to detect the signs of forced Legilimency probing.

* * *

Explosions rocked the Nott family manor, startling the occupants as they sat at a long table in the old great hall. Everybody quickly looked to the person at the head of the table, who was already on his feet.

"It would seem that we are under attack," Lord Voldemort said calmly, "let us show these idiots just why nobody should oppose me."

The assembled Death Eaters smiled gleefully, and turned to meet the attacking force. The first person out of the door of the hall instantly turned into a bloody mist as he was hit by over a dozen high-powered hexes.

"Ambush! Out of the windows!" Voldemort screamed, as he took to the air.

* * *

Dumbledore watched as his small army moved through the grounds of the old manor with practiced efficiency. It was not widely known that he had not been alone when he had finally ended the reign of Grindelwald. He had, in fact, been aided by a large group of highly trained Aurors and Hit Wizards from Britain, Canada, Australia and the United States of America. While none of these magical soldiers had been acting with official sanction from any of their respective Ministries, behind the scenes they had all enjoyed full government support.

With that support had come training, and access to archives of magic normally kept sealed. Grindelwald had ultimately been defeated by the fact that his opponents had been freely using offensive magics that had been kept a secret for so long that hardly anybody knew that they had ever existed.

The reason for the secrecy? The sheer power and effectiveness of the hexes. Not to mention the brutality and general nastiness of them. Albus had been violently sick the first time he had used one of the "Forgotten Magics" on a human being, and had only ever used them as a last resort thereafter.

Now, however, the old spells were getting a good work-out as his old allies attacked the "Death Eater" gathering that his intelligence sources had said was taking place. Dumbledore had known that he would need help to deal with any new Dark Lord, and the old crew was the fastest way of getting it. It had only taken a fortnight of practice to get themselves back up to speed - one of the Australians had said that it was "just like riding a bike".

Albus had ridden muggle bicycles before. They weren't nearly as bloody as this particular exercise was.

So far, they had cleaned out (and then levelled) two of the buildings. The great hall had been kept for last as they had known that the main opponents were congregated there. Highly classified scrying charms had given them a good count of the number of occupants, leaving them to conduct the usual drill of erecting anti-transportation wards before launching the attack.

Dumbledore was keeping count. The "Death Eaters" had lost two thirds of their numbers already. The one called "Voldemort" had been seen flying out of a window, much to everyone's surprise. Self-levitation on that level was an extremely rare skill. It hadn't helped the so-called Dark Lord, however, as Dumbledore's Army (as one of the Canadians had dubbed the eclectic group, much to Albus' dismay and everyone else's great amusement) was well practiced at hitting airborne targets.

After all, they had practiced during the war with banishing charms on falling muggle bombs. That kind of learning environment encouraged quick reflexes and good aim.

* * *

Voldemort swore as he was forced to the ground. He was losing followers rapidly and could not see that his efforts were making any impact on the attacking force - curses were dodged or blocked with summoned rocks, of which there were plenty thanks to the destroyed buildings.

Evidently, the old men he could see were very, very good at this kind of thing.

His emergency port-key had already been tried and found wanting. Apparation was similarly blocked, and the floo had been destroyed with the main residential part of the manor. His loyal followers were taking spell-fire from all sides, a sure sign that they were surrounded.

There was nothing left to do but gather his force together and try to punch a hole through the cordon that encircled them. Shouting orders, he turned towards the nearby forested area that was the traditional hunting ground of the Nott family.

* * *

Albus allowed himself a small smile as he saw the change in tactics. It meant that the enemy knew that they were completely outclassed and was now just trying to escape. Time to close the trap.

"Bravo force, move in to November sector. Enemy force trying to escape to forest." He murmured into a magically amplified microphone that would pick up every order he gave regardless of the background noise. A series of clicks answered him as his reserves moved in to block Voldemort's chosen escape path.

"All other units, tighten the noose. I want prisoners for interrogation."

* * *

Several hours later, Voldemort and 4 of his followers were brought to Dumbledore. Magical inhibitors had been applied to all five prisoners, built into the bindings that prevented them from moving a muscle.

"Well well well. I thought it might be you, Tom. My, how far you have fallen." Dumbledore said equably as he surveyed the sorry group that was all that was left of the Death Eaters.

Voldemort glared. It would have been impressive had he been in a position to do anything more. "You'll never get away with this, Dumbledore. Attacking the manor, killing people, all with no legal sanction or justification! The Wizengamot will crucify you for this!"

Albus remained completely unruffled. "Why, Tom, what makes you think the Wizengamot will ever know about this? I see no reason to bother them with something as trivial as a failed insurrection such as this."

Voldemort's rant was cut off as an icy feeling ran down his spine. "Just how are you going to hide the deaths of so many purebloods?"

The Supreme Mugwump smiled gently. "Obviously, there was an illegal potion brewing operation going on here that went tragically wrong. I saw a massive explosion as I was attending a reunion of my old friends. Such a shame about those caught up in the blast, but then again they should not have been brewing illegally the way they were..."

Voldemort scoffed. "You think that story will hold up for a minute? Once we're in front of the court..."

"You won't see court, Tom." Dumbledore said harshly. "I once allowed a Dark Lord to go, as I was unwilling to do what was required to put an end to his madness. Thousands of wizards and witches paid for my cowardice, and millions of muggles. Never again, Tom. The Ministry may not have been able to stop you thanks to the law getting in the way, but I am not going to allow anything as trivial as signed pieces of parchment prevent me from eradicating monsters such as yourself before you are a serious problem."

Dumbledore looked at the smouldering wreckage on the battlefield, before he returned his attention to the man once called Tom Riddle. "Nobody is ever going to find out about what happened here. You and your surviving followers are going to tell us everything we want to know about yourselves, your plans and your resources. We may have to use Legilimency and Veritaserum until your minds are destroyed, but we _will_ find out what we want to know. After that..."

Dumbledore walked a short distance and picked up a broken wand that was lying next to a fallen beam timber. He studied it for a few moments, before a flash incinerated it in his hand.

Voldemort's eyes widened as he realised that the old man had cast FiendFyre wandlessly in the palm of his hand, without even feeling the heat.

"After that, Tom, you and your followers will be liabilities. Liabilities that will just have to disappear. Fortunately, we are very, very good at making things disappear."

Dumbledore sighed, before he allowed the ashes of the destroyed wand fall from his hand. He turned back to the prisoners and regarded them steadily.

"Take them away, gentlemen. I have a Ministry to talk to. I must inform the Minister of the tragic deaths of so many pureblooded wizards in this horrible accident. Such a shame that there were no survivors, even though we looked as diligently as possible."

* * *

**Author's notes:** The basic idea is that this Dumbledore was badly scarred by some of the things he saw during WW2. So much so that when the first signs of Death Eater activity start to show, he throws the rule-book out the window and goes after them with ruthless efficiency and a willingness to do _anything_ it takes to deal with the problem early.

If that means killing every Death Eater after mind-raping them of all the information he needs, then so be it. He's willing to throw his own moral code out the window if it means preventing another Final Solution.

After this, the interrogation of Riddle reveals _everything_ regarding the Horcruxes. Dumbledore and his allies promptly secure and destroy them, before discreetly arranging to have Riddle and his followers thrown through the Veil of Death (Albus has contacts in the right places to have this happen in secret).

Regarding the date - best information I have is that the first overt Death Eater activity started in 1970. This is 25 years after Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald.


	11. The Bank Loan

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

It was a proud day for the young goblin. After years of hard work, blood-letting (some of it his own) and bribery he had finally been given the job that was universally regarded as a stepping stone to greatness.

Front desk teller in the London branch of Gringotts. It was thought that any goblin who could last three years dealing with wizards without snapping and starting a killing spree was good management material.

Of course, the young goblin did wish that his "public name" was different. As wizards found goblin names to be impossible to pronounce, every goblin who had to interact with wizards was given a more "human friendly" name. Rather than try to find some equivalent name (an impossible task at the best of times), every goblin was given some name that related to one of their past deeds. Griphook, for example, had earned his name after an enemy left him impaled on a meathook - the goblin survived by grabbing the hook where it stuck out of his chest and taking the strain so it wouldn't tear through him.

The goblin's name was not nearly as good, in his opinion. It was just his fault that one of his first battles had been in a magical pub in Ireland. He had done well, but because he'd used an improvised weapon (a rubber chicken) thanks to leaving his axe at home...

Well, "Paddywhack" was not in the same league as "Griphook". It really wasn't.

Still, he had a plum job now. He was determined to prove his worth.

Then his first customer of the day arrived. At first the goblin didn't notice. It wasn't what he was expecting, after all.

"Ahem." He heard. Peering over his desk, he saw a...toad.

"Can I help you?" He asked, wondering if this was a joke or the result of a potions accident.

"My name is Trevor." The toad said. "My human was given an award following the Battle of Hogwarts and I think that I should have a more upmarket toad hole to befit my new status.""

The goblin just nodded. The customer was always right, at least when they were right in front of you.

"To that end I would like to take out a loan." Trevor explained.

The goblin nodded again. Loans he knew about.

"Very well. I will need two references..."

"Easily done. My human is Neville Longbottom, I believe his family has substantial holdings here."

The goblin blinked. The Longbottoms were one of the richest families in magical Britain.

"Excellent, and one other?"

"Well, I don't like to name drop, but before Neville got me I was raised by Keith Richards. He's a famous and rich muggle, and he often said that he considered me to be a son to him."

The goblin resolved to look this man up when he had a chance.

"Very well. I also need some sort of collateral before the loan can be granted."

The toad grunted, and somehow produced...a small model of a Holyhead Harpy on a broomstick. It was typical of the type of souvenir sold to fans at Quidditch games.

The goblin just stared. "Give me a moment, I need to consult somebody."

Not quite fleeing his desk, the new teller made his way to his boss. After getting his attention, he explained the situation.

"...and then he gave me this item. what is it, and what should I do?"

The more senior goblin just stared for a moment. "It's a nick nack, Paddywhack. Give the frog a loan, his old man's a Rolling Stone."

"Toad, sir." The young goblin corrected, only to receive a glare.

* * *

**Author's notes:** This is the result of a challenge issued on a HP fanfiction Yahoo group I am a member of. The idea was to convert old jokes to fit the Potterverse.

So, here we go. My groan-inducing rehash of an old classic, complete with a telegraphed punchline.


	12. How do you cast Fiendfyre?

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Harry looked at his two friends. "Guys, this is a Horcrux. I know it."

Ron looked unconvinced. "Are you absolutely sure, Harry? Because I don't want-"

"I am absolutely sure." Harry said as he took off his jacket.

Hermione sighed. "OK, Harry. Go ahead. Ron and I will be at a safe distance, watching anything other than you - I mean, watching to make sure you are safe."

Harry did not seem to have heard his friends as he continued his preparations for the one thing that they knew would destroy a Horcrux. Fiendfyre was effective, but the process used to cast the spell...

A short distance away, Ron and Hermione stared fixedly at a nearby mountain.

"You know," Ron said casually, "those clouds look like they might snow on us later."

"I think you are correct." Hermione said absently. "We'd best find a new place to pitch our tent, we don't want to be stuck here."

Both of them searched for something to take their minds off what was happening behind them as Harry destroyed the Horcrux.

The Boy-Who-Lived had finished his preparations. He was now wearing a green skintight spandex unitard and false, thick, black eyebrows. His hair had been magically restyled into a bowlcut, very different from his usual rat's nest. He frowned as he spoke the words to cast the spell.

"FLAAAAAAMES OF YOOOOOOOUTH!"

* * *

**Author's notes: **Yet another fragment inspired by a discussion in a fanfic Yahoo group. This one revolved around the fact that the exact incantation for Fiendfyre is not actually given in canon (at least, not that I and everyone else on the group could find). This lead to speculation as to what it might be, and of course the jokes start...

Oh, and disclaimer the second: I own no part of the Naruto franchise either.


	13. Willow the Genius

Disclaimer: I own no part of the _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ or _Girl Genius_ franchises. I just wish that I did.

* * *

Xander looked at Rupert Giles steadily as the British Watcher finished his discourse on the true nature of the world. After a few tense moments, he slumped a little and sighed.

"OK, let me recap. Vampires exist?"

"Correct." Giles replied. He was a little puzzled by Xander's fairly calm reaction to the knowledge of the paranormal.

"And so do demons?" The younger man continued, as if he were discussing the weather.

"Yes." Rupert was now definitely puzzled.

"OK." Xander said, before he paused.

"Are you OK?" Buffy asked. She glanced at Willow, who seemed to have sunk into deep thought.

"Um, I will be." Xander said with a nervous glance at his old friend. "Can I talk to you in private?"

"Uh, sure." Giles said in a confused tone as he walked towards his office. Xander and Buffy trailed along behind.

"OK," Xander began as the door shut behind him, "I'm going to need your help."

Giles blinked. "You need my help? What with?"

Xander shook his head. "No, I need the both of you to help. With Willow."

"What about Willow?" Buffy asked with some concern. "Will she be scared by the whole demony-world thing?"

Xander looked up sharply. He was particularly focused. "No, and that's the problem. Willow doesn't get scared. Ever. By anything. She just gets curious and tries to figure everything out. She does that with everything. What we need to do is try to stop her from going too far."

"Would you care to explain that in more depth, Xander?" Rupert asked politely.

Xander sighed again. "Willow...invents. She creates...things. She tinkers, she pokes at stuff, she generally tries to figure out how everything works and then uses that to make her own little projects."

Buffy blinked in confusion. "And that's a problem how?"

Xander stared for a moment. "OK, let me give you an example. I met Willow in kindergarten. One day the teacher got annoyed because all of the yellow crayons in the classroom started to go missing. I noticed that Willow was looking a little guilty and tried to find out why."

Now Rupert was confused. "I'm not seeing the point here."

"I'll get there," Xander assured him, "what I found was that Willow had seen some TV program about the future of science and had decided to beat everybody to achieving a workable fusion reactor. She had started to build one behind the girls' toilets and was stockpiling the crayons to use as fuel."

Buffy looked baffled. Giles looked bemused. Noticing their expressions, Xander hurried on.

"Sounds insane, right? I just thought she was playing, until she finished her machine in front of me and switched it on. It was then, and only then, that I discovered that when Willow sets out to create something, she usually succeeds."

"Hold on," Rupert interjected, "you're saying that Willow created a fusion reactor fueled by yellow crayons?"

"Exactly." Xander said with a defeated air. "She then tried to use it to power the lights on her bicycle, which caused the bulbs to blow. So she decided to 'fix' the lights herself, and set some trees on fire with what I can only guess was a high power laser beam."

Buffy and Rupert had taken the opportunity to stare at Xander with their jaws hanging.

"She's like that all the time. Give her a bicycle pump and she'll have a workable submarine in a few days. Show her something in the science class and she'll be launching toy rockets into orbit a week later. I don't know what it is about her but she's incessant and has no idea about safety."

Rupert rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on. "Assuming you are correct and not just pulling my leg, what do you want me to do?"

Xander stared incredulously. "Are you joking? Willow managed to create a workable fusion reactor with parts of an old microwave oven and yellow crayons! She said that it made sense because the real nuclear industry uses yellowcake, which I didn't understand until I got to high school! I've spent the last decade or so doing my best to stop her from going too far, but it has been an uphill battle the whole way. Her parents are too disconnected from her to know what's going on and Jesse was always too intimidated to help."

"I'm still not seeing the problem here." Buffy said.

Xander smacked his forehead. "Gah! What I'm getting at, is - if she could do fusion with crayons, what will she do with vampires and demons? Just ask anybody at this school what happened the last time the biology class tried to run a dissection - and I mean the last time, because after that class the school banned the biology staff from dissecting animals in class. Of course, no teacher was willing to let Willow within a mile of any 'interesting' animals anyway but the principal didn't want to take any chances. I tried distracting her with the internet, but all that achieved was Willow telling me nuclear weapons launch codes after she hacked NORAD! And they're supposed to be off the net completely! I don't want to know what she'll do if she starts experimenting on vampires!"

Rupert swallowed. "Er, yes, this does seem to be a...potential problem."

"Story of my life," Xander muttered, "story of my fucking life."

* * *

***later on***

Rupert Giles walked into the Library with a serious expression on his face. He ignored the excited squeaks that indicated that Willow had something new to 'play' with. He'd had a lot of practice by that stage.

"We have figured out what the Mayor's plan is. He is going to ascend to be a greater demon - an Old One - during the eclipse that is due to take place during your graduation ceremony."

The Scoobies all glanced at each other with expressions that varied from horrified to bemused.

"Now, there is good news," Rupert went on, "that last time this happened the newly ascended demon was killed by a pyroclastic flow. So he will at least be vulnerable after he has ascended."

Willow took this moment to join the conversation. "What type of demon will he be? What will he look like?"

Rupert referred to one of his files before answering. "The best indication is that he will be some sort of giant snake."

"Awesome!" Willow said excitedly. "I know exactly what we need to do! Just get me 5 balls of twine and some chewing gum..."

***insert scenes of violence***

Giles studiously ignored the events taking place on the football ground as he paid close attention to what Buffy was saying.

"...but she'll be alright. Not fully drained. So, we have, like, 17 people hurt but nobody dead. Except the vampires, but they don't count."

"Good." Rupert said in reply. "And, Willow?"

Buffy glanced at the football pitch. "Busy with her new pet. I don't think the Mayor likes being called Fido."

* * *

***much later***

"No weapon forged? I never forge, I CREATE!" Willow cackled as she brandished something that looked like a cheap plastic water pistol. Knowing her, that's what it had been originally. Then she aimed in the general direction of the Judge and pulled the trigger.

Afterwards, the Scoobies all swore to never speak of the Mall Incident ever again. And Willow was banned from using indelible ink.

* * *

***still later***

"Oh, a typical Frankenstein's Monster." Willow said dismissively. "That's nothing. Meet my own special pet, Fido!"

ADAM looked up as a shadow fell over him. And up. And up.

* * *

**Author's notes: **Oh dear, it seems our Willow is a Spark. That might help explain the insane Willow-babble. Pity the poor vampires who become her new "test subjects".

This one is up for adoption. To be honest I just don't know the BtVS material well enough to even think about trying to expand this any further.


	14. W for Wrath

"Tell me again, why are we standing on a roof looking at the entrance for the Ministry of Magic?" Ron asked testily. Two of the people he was with glared at him, the last seemed indifferent.

"Because this masked man came out of nowhere and saved us from a Death Eater ambush," Harry explained tiredly, "using nothing but daggers to fight off four wizards. Then he asked us to attend a little concert he was putting on, so here we are."

"I know all that, but why did we agree to come?" Ron whined. It was cold up there on the roof.

"I didn't think it was wise to argue with the dagger-wielding man who had just demonstrated near super-human strength and reflexes." Hermione replied in an annoyed tone.

Ron just huffed. "OK, fine, but we're very exposed up here and the Ministry is just full of Death Eaters these days. What will we do if any of them see us up here?"

"I wouldn't worry about that." The fourth person interjected smoothly. "They'll be wonderfully occupied with my little concert. Speaking of which…" The tall figure raised a wand and tapped a nearby gargoyle on the head. Soon, soft music could be heard, gradually getting louder.

Hermione looked confused for a moment. "I know that tune, but what is it…" She trailed off as the music grew louder. A male voice could be heard, singing solo.

_O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!_  
_Sondern lasst uns angenehmere anstimmen_  
_und freudenvollere!_

Now a male chorus joined in.

_Freude! Freude!_

Hermione's puzzled expression cleared up. "I know that song! Beethoven's Ninth Symphony!"

"Ah, what a wonderful intellect." The stranger said without turning his head. The song continued, getting louder all the time.

_Freude, schöner Götterfunken,_  
_Tochter aus Elysium,_  
_Wir betreten feuertrunken._  
_Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!_  
_Deine Zauber binden wieder_  
_Was die Mode streng geteilt;_  
_Alle Menschen werden Brüder_  
_Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt._

Suddenly, the telephone box that served as the public entrance for theMinistry of Magic exploded. It was accompanied by a deeper rumbling that suggested at other events taking place underground.

"What the hell-" Harry started to say before he was cut off by the sight of the ground subsiding slightly.

_Wem der große Wurf gelungen_  
_Eines Freundes Freund zu sein,_  
_Wer ein holdes Weib errungen,_  
_Mische seinen Jubel ein!_  
_Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele_  
_Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund!_  
_Und wer's nie gekonnt, der stehle_  
_Weinend sich aus diesem Bund._

Fireworks started to launch out of the ruins of the old telephone box.

_Freude trinken alle Wesen_  
_An den Brüsten der Natur;_  
_Alle Guten, alle Bösen,_  
_Folgen ihrer Rosenspur._  
_Küsse gab sie uns und Reben,_  
_Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod;_  
_Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben,_  
_Und der Cherub steht vor Gott!_

_Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen_  
_Durch des Himmels prächt'gen Plan,_  
_Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn,_  
_Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen._

_Seid umschlungen, Millionen._  
_Dieser Kuss der ganzen Welt!_  
_Brüder! Über'm Sternenzelt_  
_Muss ein lieber Vater wohnen._  
_Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen?_  
_Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt?_  
_Such ihn über'm Sternenzelt!_  
_Über Sternen muss er wohnen._

The music ended, just as the final firework exploded overhead, leaving the image of a giant glowing W suspended over London. The dark figure turned to the Golden Trio.

"Well? What did you think of my work?"

The three friends just stood silently for a moment, stunned. Suddenly Hermione spoke up.

"I know that mask! That's a Guy Fawkes mask!"

"Ah, the wonderfully wise witch has worked out the significance of my wardrobe! What else can we expect from one such as she? But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace soubriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.

"Witness! A humble worldly wizard, cast wickedly as both the wounded and wretch by the will of fate. This wondrous masquerade, no mere window-dressing of self-worship, is a whisper of the 'will of the people' now worthless, wasted. However, this awesome entrance of a bygone weariness stands reworked, and has sworn to overwhelm these worthless and wicked wrong-doers, welcoming lewdness and awarding the woundingly awful and unquenchable wronging of willingness.

"The only answer is wrath; a warpath, held as a word of honour not without worth, for the weightiness and truth of such shall one day warrant the aware and the wholesome.

"Genuinely this welter of words whirls most long-winded, so let me simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you and you may call me W."

* * *

**Author's notes: **My take on trying out a _V for Vendetta _plotline in the Potterverse. I'll leave the identity of "W" out of it for now in case I ever have the time to follow this one up.

Writing that "W" speech was a real pain in the rear end.


	15. Desertion or Common Sense?

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she took in her surroundings. Hogsmeade had once been the largest all-magic community in the British Isles. Now...

Now it was a cemetery. Literally. Nobody lived here now. There were a few abandoned (and mostly ruined) buildings still standing, surrounded on all sides by gravestones. Lots and lots of gravestones.

She did not look in the direction of Hogwarts. That was a memory too painful to bring up again. Besides, she already knew what it looked like now - little more than a pile of rubble, barely recognisable as having once been a castle.

"Well, we won." Hermione muttered to herself, "But the cost...it became necessary to destroy magical Britain in order to save it." She could not quite remember where she had heard the original quotation, but it was certainly appropriate.

She half-turned as she heard footsteps behind her. Uneven footsteps. Neville Longbottom was there, still not fully adjusted to his prosthetic leg. Thanks to her muggle background, Neville had the latest and best prosthetic available, but it would still be a few months before her old friend would be fully confident in its use.

"What is it, Nev?" She asked diffidently. She had expected to be alone on this day, barely four months after the final battle that had ended what historians were already calling the "Blood War."

"We found him." Neville said simply. Hermione turned fully to face the Longbottom heir-apparent and fixed him with the full intensity of her stare.

"Ron?" Her one-time fiancé had been thought dead for years.

"No, Harry. Remus finally reported in, seems he was on a top secret mission that Mad-Eye assigned him to after Harry went missing."

Hermione was stunned. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived...and then ran. Finally located. She fought down the surge of anger that the name brought up.

"Where is he?" She asked in a guttural tone.

"The Bahamas. Turns out the Blacks had an unplottable island there that he has been sitting on ever since he left Britain."

Hermione's expression went strangely blank. "Well, I think it is time we went and had a chat, don't you?

* * *

Hermione Granger strode up the path angrily, trailed by a cautious Neville Longbottom and a nervous Remus Lupin.

"This is a bad idea," Remus began. Hermione cut him off angrily.

"No, this is long overdue." She spat. "Harry has a lot to answer for."

"Look, I know we all have our grievances with Harry," Remus tried again, "but this is his home turf. And he's a lot more powerful than he was when he left."

"I don't care." Hermione bit back, as a large manor building came into view. It was a typical magical dwelling for this part of the world - a classic English manor stuck into the middle of a tropical paradise with no concern for the climate.

As the trio approached, a house elf appeared and bowed. Hermione blinked as recognition dawned. "Dobby?"

"Hello, Mistress Granger." Dobby said in flawless English. "Master Harry is waiting for you in the gazebo. I shall accompany you there."

"Fine." The witch said shortly. There was no point in taking her frustrations out on a house elf.

* * *

Hermione sat bolt upright in her comfortable chair as Dobby served tea. Remus was perched nervously on one end of an outdoor sofa, while Neville prowled around like a caged lion.

Harry was lounging on a settee, apparently without any care in the world. "Well, I wish I could say that this was unexpected. But I'd be lying if I did. Something like this was inevitable once Remus found my little place."

"Did you think you could run forever, Harry?" Neville asked diffidently before Hermione could say anything.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I'm running? I've been living here for 15 years. That's not running. That's settling down."

"Hiding, then." Hermione said with a sniff. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"I did a pretty piss-poor job of it then, didn't I? In case you hadn't noticed, this island has no charms to hide it from anybody other than those who have no magic. I could have slapped a Fidelius on the whole place, then you would never have seen me again. Hell, I was even visiting the USA on a monthly basis without trying to hide my identity. I'm more surprised that it took you this long to find me."

"We had more pressing issues to deal with, like Voldemort." Hermione hissed as she fought to keep her temper under control.

"Ah, now we get to the crux of the matter." Harry replied with a mirthless smile. "You're here to take me to task for 'desertion' or 'betrayal' or some rot like that."

"Do you have any idea what we went through?" Hermione snapped out. "15 years of fighting, all because you wouldn't help us! If you'd shared what Dumbledore left you-"

"Tell someone who cares." Harry snapped back. "Let me tell you something, Granger. Let me tell you the full story of why I gave the everybody in Britain the finger and left."

"Go ahead." Hermione said haughtily.

"I know you three remember our fifth year at Hogwarts." Harry said carelessly, as if he were discussing the weather. "The entire magical world ganged up on me, perfectly willing to write me off as a delusional brat rather than accept the uncomfortable truth that the core of their society was either serving Voldemort or was willingly blind to his return."

"I know that, but we were loyal." Neville bit out.

"And I was grateful. Even as the Ministry tortured me for the crime of telling the truth, you guys were on my side. But to be honest, the fact that the sheeple were so willing to turn on me that quickly really rankled. And then there was our sixth year."

"What happened?" Remus asked. "I never got the full story."

"Well, first of all you have the famed Boy-Who-Lived as the vindicated hero. The world finally admitted that he had been right all along. And as thanks, they locked him up in the abusive environment of his childhood and cut him off from contact with anybody."

"That was to keep you safe!" Hermione said in a half-snarl.

"Oh yeah, safe." Harry snorted. "Spare me your protestations, Granger, you were all too busy worshiping at the Temple of St Dumbledore to even indulge in a rational thought or two. Just how was shoving me away with the Dursleys and cutting off all communications supposed to help somebody who was grieving for the death of his godfather?"

Hermione blinked. She had no real answer to that.

"And then we got back to school," Harry went on, "my little forehead connection - which had been pretty accurate all through our fifth year, particularly when it saved Arthur Weasley - gives me a clue that Draco has been ordered to murder Dumbledore."

"I remember that." Neville said slowly. Harry nodded.

"Yep. Such a shame that Dumbledore trusted Snape to take care of it, while my so-called friends decided that now was their time to act like the Boy-Who-Lived was delusional. Everybody else had their turn the previous year, so it was obvious that they were due for a turn, right?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous," Hermione said with a huff, "you had no evidence whatsoever. What were we supposed to do?"

"Oh, I dunno, trust me?" Harry said as he looked at the skyline. "A strange concept at Hogwarts, I know. I mean, we all know how that played out."

"Draco didn't kill Dumbledore, Snape did." Hermione objected.

"Oh be serious!" Harry scoffed, directing a glare at his one-time friend. "That whole mess was Draco's plan. He let the Death Eaters into the school, he got the Darkness Powder, he just chickened out at the last minute! If it weren't for Draco, Snape would never have gotten close to killing Dumbledore."

Hermione just returned the glare.

"So there I was, with a dead mentor." Harry continued, "I knew about the horcruxes, far too late. I had Dumbledore's notes, for all the good they were. I had 'friends' who wouldn't believe a word I said until reality punched them in the face, a wider population who would back me until the Daily Prophet changed its mind, and a useless Ministry more intent on saving face than anything else. And then I get shoved back with the Dursleys, just to compound it all."

"I had no idea," Remus breathed. Harry waved him off.

"Don't sweat it, I knew you were being kept out of the loop. At any rate, after just one evening of being locked in my room with no food, I had an epiphany. Which was that I didn't give a flying fuck about Britain."

There was silence for a moment.

"I mean, my 'friends' had demonstrated that their friendship and loyalty weren't real. The population was willingly stupid, and there was nobody I really cared about. So why would I fight for them? After that little realisation, I took a quick trip to Grimmauld Place. I found out about this island from some of the books there. After that I used some of the money Sirius left me to get the hell out of Blighty."

"And left us to pick up the slack." Hermione said icily.

Harry chuckled. "Well, it was time somebody else carried the entire world on their shoulders. I showed Britain all the loyalty it had ever shown me."

"Damn you, Harry!" Hermione shouted. "We had to find all the horcruxes by working from scratch! And all that time, we were fighting! Hogsmeade was wiped out, Hogwarts was destroyed, Britain lost over half of its magical population!"

Harry put his hand up in her face. "Talk to the hand, 'cause the head ain't listening. What makes you think I care? Let the sheeple burn, they earned themselves their Dark Lord problem. Maybe this time, with no 'hero' to bail their sorry arses out, they'll actually learn from their mistakes. But then again, they're not that bright, so probably not."

Hermione reached to draw her wand, when a surge of magic stopped her.

Harry glared at her. "Watch yourself, Granger, the wards here were deadly even before I started upgrading them. Try any hostile magic and your atoms will be scattered from here to Mars."

Hermione withdrew her hand and settled for glaring. "So, what now? You'll just skulk here on your precious island?"

"That's the idea," Harry replied in a diffident tone, "though I'm not really skulking. I've been doing a lot of work with some Charms Masters in the US, so I'll be visiting them fairly regularly. Now, if that's all, you can leave. Don't let the door hit you in the arse on your way out."

* * *

Author's Note: Sometimes I wonder why Harry bothered to stay the course during his 6th year. That was the year when even Hermione decided to carry the idiot ball.


	16. The Next Revolution

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

Hermione Granger, newly appointed Professor of Transfiguration at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, smiled as the large door in front of her opened to reveal a familiar house elf.

"Hello Dobby. How are you?"

"Dobby be doing goods, Missy Professor Grangey ma'am. You is here to see Master Harry?"

Hermione had long since learned to suppress the instinctive wince that used to be her chief expression whenever she heard a house elf call anybody "master". She'd fought that fight and lost when she discovered that the biggest opponent to the abolition of house elf slavery were the house elves themselves.

1 month at Hogwarts without their services had driven the point home.

"Yes, Dobby, I have his invitation here." Hermione said as she revealed the small card. Dobby nodded and ushered her inside.

"Master Harry Sir is in the drawing room with guests. Dobby show you the way."

Hermione knew the way blindfolded, but was not about to stop Dobby from doing what he clearly considered to be his duty. She walked alongside the elf, taking note of the small changes in decoration that had been made since her previous visit.

The drawing room looked fairly crowded, but Hermione immediately recognised at least 90% of the occupants. There was Ron talking to Luna and her husband while Su Li held on to his arm. Susan Bones was having an animated chat with her old friend Hannah Longbottom, nee Abbott, while Neville looked bored. Harry himself was pouring a drink for Ginny Weasley, studiously ignoring her somewhat blatant attempts to draw his attention to the 15 acres of cleavage that her dress had exposed.

_Give it up, Ginny, that horse bolted a long time ago,_ Hermione thought to herself.

Harry suddenly looked up and spotted Hermione. His smile broadened somewhat as he handed the glass of wine to Ginny before crossing the room to greet his old friend.

"Hello Hermione, how are you?" The Man-Who-Won had managed to come out of his shell since his victory, and Hermione could now see just what Minerva had meant when she talked about the "Potter charm".

"Fine thank you. How have you been?"

Harry's smile dimmed slightly. "Not too bad, but it is a long story. One that has been waiting for your arrival - what was the delay? You aren't the type to be fashionably late."

Hermione blushed. "I'm afraid I got caught up in my work and lost track of time. In the end I had to be reminded by Tally that I had an engagement this evening."

Harry chuckled. "Never mind, Hermione, I'd be more worried if you hadn't been up to your eyeballs in your new job. But now that you're here, let's get this thing started..."

* * *

Dinner had concluded, and now everybody was seated in the large living room that Harry had set up for after-dinner discussions. Brandy and whisky had been dispensed for those who felt like aiding their digestion with copious quantities of alcohol, and the conversation had died down a bit. Finally, Neville got everyone's attention by speaking up.

"OK Harry, I've waited long enough. Just what is this delightful get together in aid of? It isn't just for a reunion, I know that."

Harry paused momentarily as the attention of the room was suddenly focussed on him. "You got me, Nev. OK, let's get to the purpose of tonight's gathering. First, a question. How do you all feel about the current state of our society?"

There was a pregnant pause, before Susan Bones spoke up. "It isn't all roses at the moment, but it is a lot better than it was." There was general agreement.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Really? I admit things are better than when unreformed Death Eaters were running the country from behind the scenes, but just how far have we actually come?"

"Cut to the chase and tell us what is on your mind, Potter." Daphne Greengrass said curtly. "I don't feel like playing 20 questions all night."

"OK then. I don't know if any of you are aware, but I resigned from the Aurors this morning." Harry stated. There was a chorus of people expressing their disbelief, which stopped as Harry raised a hand.

"It was not a decision I made lightly. But I have my reasons. The biggest of which was my realisation that our society has not changed in the way that it should have. Voldemort was a wake-up call that has apparently fallen on deaf ears."

"Explain that, Harry." Tracy Davis said bluntly. Harry turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, you have a senior position at Hogwarts. You've managed it in record time. How would you have done if you had applied for a job at the Ministry?"

Hermione had an immediate answer. "I did apply at the Ministry, Harry, for a job in Spell Research. I was told that they would get back to me. After 6 months without hearing anything I accepted Minerva's job offer."

Harry nodded and turned back to the rest of the room. "And there you have it. Hermione is easily the brightest witch to have entered the British magical world in centuries, and how does that world react? Rejection by all except those that actually fought alongside her in a war."

"Hold on, Harry," Justin Finch-Fletchley said, "I'll admit that Hermione's case is a poor indictment on the Ministry, but to go from that to disparaging our whole society..."

Harry shook his head. "Hermione is just the most obvious example. I've been keeping tabs since I started as an Auror. Since the fall of Voldemort, the Ministry has hired no muggleborn at all. The ratio of halfbloods like myself to purebloods is roughly 1 to 8. Similar statistics apply to the rest of society - the only businesses that hire muggleborn are those that are created by muggleborn. Everybody else hires purebloods for preference, or halfbloods if there is no other choice."

There was a brief moment of silence. Then Neville broke it. "That's unfortunate, but it is better than before."

Harry nodded. "Yes, the fact that muggle-baiting is all but a thing of the past is an improvement. But the fact remains that our society is still run by people who think blood status matters. They aren't violent about it like the Death Eaters, but the discrimination stands."

Harry got up and started to pace. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Who here thinks that the treatment of the Malfoys was at all fair or just?"

"Hold on, you yourself spoke up on their behalf!" Justin interjected. Harry skewered him with a glare.

"I argued for **leniency**, Justin, because they did come around and help us at the very end. After they had already fallen out of Voldemort's favour, mind you. All I said was that I didn't think they deserved to be executed. I never said anything about giving them a blanket pardon!"

Harry's pacing had put him next to the fireplace. He turned from Justin and looked at the room in general.

"Lucius Malfoy should have gone to Azkaban for his crimes. Permanently. Draco should have followed him for at least 20 years if not more. Narcissa had earned herself a criminal conviction if not a jail term. And yet the Wizengamot, in its infinite wisdom, let's them all off!"

There was silence. Harry continued once he was sure that his words had sunk in. "Our society is still run by blood bigots and the Old Boys network that empowered the likes of Malfoy to begin with. The death of Voldemort and his more extreme followers hasn't changed that. Our society is discriminatory, corrupt and will ultimately breed another Dark Lord if it is allowed to stay that way."

"So change it, Harry." Ron said. "You could have helped change it from the Aurors, why did you quit?"

Harry shook his head again. "I tried, Ron. Honestly, I tried. But even the Chief Auror cannot do much when the Wizengamot is determined to ignore the problems that need to be addressed. I can't arrest somebody for biased hiring practices, after all.

"I did think about reforming the Wizengamot itself, and I could have gone from being Chief Auror to that august body easily. But I'd need a majority to achieve anything, and the Wizengamot is an in-bred hot-house of nepotism and doing favours for your friends. I'd never get enough support to fix things."

"So what do you suggest?" Luna Lovegood asked gently. She had retained her maiden name when she married, and now her husband was Mr Lovegood.

Harry grinned. "Revolution. The system cannot be made to fix itself, we must fix it ourselves. Obviously we'll go about this in a more civilized manner than Voldemort and his followers, but at this stage our only hope to fix things is to bypass the system and force change."

"That's quite a statement of intent, Harry," Justin said. "As a former Auror I'm sure you know that you're proposing a blatantly illegal enterprise."

"Of course, that's why I resigned this morning." Harry said bluntly. "And no, keeping myself in that role would not have helped. If we're going to do this, it needs to be a sudden seizure of the Ministry and not a drawn out infiltration. The latter would be preferable, but we don't have the time."

"What is the rush, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Our muggleborn and halfbloods are leaving. Every year we lose hundreds as they move overseas to avoid the discrimination. And now we're seeing foreign schools of magic luring our muggleborn students away before they ever go to Hogwarts - they have recruiters visit the families after the Hogwarts representative has left and give them an introduction to what our society here in Britain is like. Not surprisingly, a lot of parents choose to send their children overseas for their education."

Hermione blanched. "I see. You're right, Harry, we must act quickly."

"I don't understand," Ron said, "why does that force us into rushing?"

Hermione shifted into teacher-mode. "The two wars against Voldemort drastically reduced our population. Not only were a lot of people killed, but birth-rates declined dramatically. It is no coincidence that my year at Hogwarts was the smallest on record since the 14th century. If people are leaving Britain, our population will start to decline to the point where the economy will collapse."

Harry picked up the thread. "I did a few University level courses in statistics and demographics to help me bring the Aurors up to date with modern policing techniques. I figure that if we don't start to turn around the exodus of muggleborn and halfbloods now, we'll have a major collapse of the economy within a decade."

There was a brief silence. Then Ron stood up. "I'm not sure I fully understand why we have to act fast rather than play the wrong game, but I know enough to have faith that you know what you're doing. I'm in, Harry."

With that, the dam was broken and there was a series of nods from the assembled crowd. Hermione blinked a few times as she realised just what they had all signed up for.

"So, do we give ourselves a name?" Harry said with his famous smile.

* * *

"_Revolutions always come around again. That's why they're called revolutions_."

- Terry Pratchett, "Night Watch"

* * *

Author's notes: In hindsight, this was just another "Harry and friends decide to fix the magical world" post book 7 fic. There's nothing particularly new in it, good thing I left it for other things.


	17. The Prewitt Family Curse

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

**First year**:

"Do you have the scar?" Ron asked eagerly.

"What?" Harry replied, confused.

"You know, the lightning bolt scar! Everybody knows the Boy-Who-Lived has a lightning bolt scar on his forehead!" Ron said, leaning forward with excitement.

Harry sighed and moved his hair to reveal his scar. Ron almost squealed as he saw it.

"You and I are going to be really good friends!" The red-head said with a disturbing glint in his eye.

* * *

"Troll!" Harry said as he backed away. Hermione looked to be too frightened to move.

Ron's face took on an enraged expression. "DIE!" He screamed as he launched himself at the troll.

"He's gonna get himself killed!" Hermione screamed, "He's gonna - what?"

Somehow Ron had managed to get behind the troll and had an arm around its neck. The troll was doing its best to dislodge its attacker while Ron's free hand had something bright and shiny in it.

"Is that a knife?" Harry asked incredulously, "Where did he get that?"

Hermione winced and turned away as the knife bit home, a spurt of blood appearing on the troll's shoulder. Harry followed suit a few seconds later as an ear hit the floor.

* * *

"What did you say to Harry?" Ron growled as he turned to face Draco fully. Draco paused as he saw the look on Ron's face.

"Nothing." The blond said as he backed away.

* * *

Dumbledore hurried as he heard the sounds of battle dying away in the room that contained the Mirror of Erised. He stopped as he reached the doorway.

On the floor lay the dismembered parts of Professor Quirrell, who had a suspicious hole in the back of his head. Harry was leaning up against a wall with his wand out in a defensive posture. Ron was standing over the butchered Professor, covered in blood.

"What happened here?" The Headmaster asked in a loud voice, catching the attention of both boys.

"You don't want to know." Harry said in a dead voice.

* * *

**2nd year, on the train**

"Told you I could land the car on the train!" Ron said triumphantly. Harry just nodded as he looked a little green.

"Um, Harry, can I talk to you?" Ginny asked nervously. "In private?"

"Sure. Will you be good here, Ron?" Harry replied.

"I'll be fine." Ron said dismissively.

Once out in the corridor, Ginny looked around to see if anybody was listening. Satisfied that they had no eavesdroppers, she leaned in and whispered in Harry's ears.

"We need to talk privately once we get to the castle. There's something you need to know about my family."

* * *

"OK," Harry said as Ginny finished, "so your mother's side of the family has a history of mental illness?"

"Yes, it seems to run in the family," Ginny said with a pained look on her face, "Bill steals all the time. Charlie hurts animals for fun. Percy will do anything to see himself get ahead. The twins love tormenting people with their pranks. And Ron..."

"...is a certifiable psychopath." Hermione finished. "We figured that out last year."

"Yes," Ginny said miserably. "Dad didn't find out about any of this until after I was born. He figured out that I was the only one in my family who didn't have any sort of mental problem. So he's done the best he can to protect me from the rest."

"What about Ron?" Harry asked. "Why is he so fanatically loyal to me?"

"He isn't," Ginny said, "he's loyal to the Boy-Who-Lived. Ron and I were both brought up with those books in the house, and he developed a bit of an obsession with them. But it's the character he's loyal to, not you personally."

"That's...rather scary." Hermione said in a small voice.

"So, what do you want to do?" Harry asked Ginny.

Ginny sighed. "My family scares me. I know the Boy-Who-Lived books have very little to do with you, Harry, but they were the source of my first hero figure. Basically, all I want to do is protect you from my brothers."

* * *

Harry winced as he saw the snake approaching. This was definitely a bad move on Malfoy's part...Ron was in the room.

"**HOW DARE YOU SET A SNAKE ON HARRY!" **Ron roared as he somehow managed to leap a good twenty feet to land on the duelling stage between Harry and the snake. The snake reared up in surprise, only to have its head taken off by an over-powered cutting spell.

"DIE!" Ron explained as he launched himself on Malfoy, somehow shrugging off the stunning spell that Snape had launched at the maddened red-head.

* * *

"Are you threatening him? Are you threatening the **Boy-Who-Lived?**" Ron asked in a slightly manic tone as he regarded his DADA Professor.

Lockhart's eyes widened slightly as Ron's expression turned nasty. "Now, Ron, let's not be hasty-"

Whatever the fake hero was going to say next was cut off as Ron's fist smashed into his larynx. Harry closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the beating. At least he'd been able to get Ron to stop screaming like a maniac when he attacked.

* * *

Harry dodged as the Basilisk's tail whipped over his head. Fortunately for him the giant snake was distracted and blind. The latter was thanks to Fawkes arriving and ripping the monster's eyes out, the former was due to Ron using one of the empty eye sockets as a handhold while he wailed away at the Basilisk's armoured hide. Harry didn't think Ron would be able to do much damage with just his hands and feet, but it was perfect to keep the wretched beast distracted while he tried to figure out where he should stab it with Gryffindor's Sword.

* * *

**Third year**

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HARRY!" Ron screamed as he attacked the cloaked figure that had invaded their train compartment. The figure withdrew hastily as it discovered that totally fearless people were perfectly capable of breaking the bones of Dementors.

* * *

"Um, Professor?" Harry said diffidently. Remus Lupin looked over with a neutral expression on his face.

"Yes, Mr Potter?"

"I don't think Ron should confront the Boggart."

The DADA Professor looked at where the Boggart was trying to hide in a corner, desperate to get away from the red-headed boy.

"I think you might be right, Mr Potter."

* * *

"Headmaster?" Harry asked cautiously, sticking his head around the open door to Dumbledore's office. The old man blinked with surprise, as he'd had no warning of anybody entering.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Ron...er, caught somebody. Actually two people. I think you should come and take charge."

"Very well, Harry." Dumbledore said with a sigh as he stood up. Just outside his office he saw Ron Weasley holding on to a pair of very familiar (and somewhat bloodied) wizards.

"This shithole," Ron shook the more emaciated man, "thought he could kidnap me and this fuckhead," here Ron shook the more overweight man, "thought he could get away with pulling the wool over my eyes for a decade!"

Dumbledore sighed again. This looked like it would be a very long night.

* * *

**Fourth year**

"Are you saying that you didn't enter yourself into the Tournament? Are you really saying that?" Ron asked in a dangerous tone. Harry gulped nervously.

"Of course he didn't, Ron," Ginny put in, "the Boy-Who-Lived would never break the rules and steal somebody's glory like that. This is obviously a Death Eater plot to kill him."

Ron paused, apparently in thought. Everybody in the Gryffindor Common Room watched closely, like mice watching a snake.

"You're right," Ron said at length, "we must find out who put Harry's name into the Goblet."

The red-headed boy did not notice how everybody in the room all let out a sigh of relief as the potential explosion evaporated.

* * *

**Fifth year**

Harry leaned against a wall as he took a moment to catch his breath. The Prophecy Orb - or was it Sphere, he couldn't remember - was safe in his pocket for the moment and he seemed to have lost the Death Eaters.

Well, to be strictly accurate he hadn't evaded them so much as he had left them with a serious obstacle to work around.

A short distance away, Ron Weasley launched himself into the air as he went for Bellatrix Lestrange's throat.

"DIE!" He screamed as the Death Eater's Cruciatus Curse failed to make any impression on the Gryffindor 5th Year.

* * *

"Harry Potter, we meet again-" Voldemort began before he was cut off.

"DIE BASTARD DIE!" Ron screamed as he charged at the Dark Lord, clutching a dagger in each hand. Harry wondered where his fellow Gryffindor had found the knives, as Ron had not been allowed any sharp blades since his first Potions lesson.

* * *

Author's notes:

This is a rough outline of an idea I had about a year ago.

In essence, the Prewitt family (Molly Weasley's clan for those that don't remember) have a history of insanity. Just about every member for as far back as there are records had some sort of mental illness. Molly herself was sociopathic enough that she never saw why using love potions on Arthur was wrong, Bill is a kleptomaniac who channels that into being a Gringott's tomb robber, Charlie is a sadist who uses "being cruel to be kind" on dragons, etc.

Ron is a raging psychopath on a level that would scare Freddy Krueger. And he is devoted, body and soul, to the Boy-Who-Lived. Not to Harry, but to the Boy-Who-Lived. Which is both a blessing and a curse for Harry, as he has a fanatically devoted follower/weapon while Ron thinks that Harry is the BWL, but should Harry do anything to make Ron doubt that title...badness. Plus Ron's responses to people having a go at Harry are way, way over the top, forcing Harry and Hermione to spend a lot of time reining Ron in.

Ginny is the only sane member of the Prewitt bloodline. I can think of a number of reasons for this, starting with pure genetic luck or some magical "7th child of a 7th child" coincidence. Either way, she knows that her family is crazy and wants to protect Harry from them. No crush or hero worship, just a resigned determination to prevent her siblings from damaging the BWL.

This is up for adoption. Make of this what you will.


	18. A Weasley Conspiracy

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

"Fred, George...I need your help." Ginny said in a small voice as she walked up to the pair. The twins glanced at each other, before they escorted their sister to a room where they knew that they wouldn't be overheard.

"What is it, dear sister?" One of them asked.

Ginny looked worried. "I need to brew at least two doses of full-strength Amortentia. Maybe more. I have no idea where I'd even find the recipe, and I thought you two might be able to help."

"Whoa! What brought this on?" Gred asked incredulously.

Ginny now looked distressed. "I overheard a conversation between the Headmaster and our parents during the summer break. He is planning to get Harry and I married, regardless of what we might want."

The twins just stared. "...we thought you wanted to marry Harry. You played the game with Luna enough when you were small."

Ginny flashed a small smile, which vanished quickly. "I wanted to marry Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived. The boy in the books dad used to read to me. But after several years at Hogwarts, I've found that The Boy-Who-Lived doesn't exist...and I've learned a lot about Harry Potter."

The twins nodded. They'd figured out the truth behind the BWL series of books within months of Harry's Sorting.

Ginny continued. "I like the Harry I've come to know, but I don't want to marry him. We just aren't suited for each other. I'd rather have him as a happy friend rather than a resentful husband."

"That's fine, Gin, but where does the Amortentia come into it?" Forge asked.

"Dumbledore is planning to dose me and Harry with Amortentia later this year," Ginny said with a trace of anger. "He's blackmailing our parents with something, I'm not sure what but it must be something big because it shut them both up quickly. Mum was very angry about the whole idea, but after the Headmaster showed them a piece of parchment she went very pale and just stayed quiet while Dad did the rest of the talking."

"So you want to get in first...?" Gred asked.

"Yes." Ginny said firmly. "We've kept it private, but Neville and I have been dating steadily since the ball last year. He's already talked about starting negotiations for a betrothal contract. When I told him about what I overheard, he had the idea of us dosing each other to block any future potions."

"Yes, somebody already in the grip of Amortentia can't be dosed again," Forge mused, "any later applications will just have no effect. So that's one dose for you, and one for Neville...you said you might want more?"

Ginny glanced around the room. "I have no idea if Harry is interested in any girl in a serious way. It is obvious that his thing with Cho is just infatuation on his part and a poor attempt to hold onto Cedric on hers. But if he does look like he might have found a girl that is good for him, we can offer him the chance to protect himself from any love potions the Headmaster might try to dose him with."

The twins looked at each other for a long moment. Then they nodded and turned back to their sister.

"We're in. We know the recipe already and can get the ingredients easily enough. Give us a month, maybe two, and we'll be ready. But we want a written contract from you and Neville that this is really want you want."

Ginny nodded, looking determined. "You'll get it. Thank you for this."

* * *

Author's Note: I've seen a lot of stories that have some or all of the Weasley family conspiring to marry Harry off to Ginny as some part of getting his money or keeping him under an evil Dumbledore's control. This is an alternative approach in which Dumbledore is blackmailing the Weasleys into being co-conspirators.


	19. Safe Disposal

Disclaimer: I own no part of the _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ franchise.

* * *

Giles rubbed his forehead tiredly. He had developed a headache over the course of the conversation.

"OK, tell me again why we don't need to worry about the Judge."

His fellow Watcher took a sip of tea before he responded. "Well, we became aware of various supernatural powers developing some interest in tracking down all of the Judge's parts in the 1960s. So we set about collecting them ourselves."

Rupert looked pained. "Please don't tell me that we found them all. The last thing I want is that mad vampire attacking our headquarters."

The other Watcher shook their head. "No, we weren't that successful. We did find his head, an arm and part of his torso."

"That's bad enough," Rupert grated out, "so where are these parts stored?"

There was a noticeable pause. Rupert sighed. "Please tell me that they are somewhere secure."

"Well, they are a bit inaccessible," the other Watcher said after considering the matter. "You have to remember that in the 60s and 70s we had people in the governments of both the USA and USSR. So we had access to some...disposal sites...that we couldn't get at today."

"Such as?" Rupert asked tiredly.

"Well, as for the Judge's head...let's just say that Voyager 1 was slightly heavier than Voyager 2 was."

Rupert just stared. His fellow Watcher continued, hurriedly.

"Er, his arm went to Venus in one of the Russian probes, so it is on the surface there somewhere. As for the piece of his torso we found...um, I think that is on the moon. Somewhere, I can't remember which mission it went up with. Unless it went to Mars with one of the Viking missions, I'm really just not sure."

Rupert shook his head. He didn't want to even think about how Drusilla would react to this.


	20. Mother's Day

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

Harry lightly grasped Hermione's hand as they sat before a large desk in the Ministry of Magic. Behind it sat Percy Weasley, who appeared to be sorting a very thick file full of parchment. Hermione's free hand was in motion as she played with the engagement ring that Harry had given her just a few days earlier.

"Right, that's got it sorted. Sorry about the wait, Harry, but this file keeps growing every time I take my eyes off it." Percy explained apologetically. Harry just smiled.

"Don't worry, Percy, I think I can understand."

"Fine," Percy replied, "now to the subject of today's meeting. First of all, congratulations on your engagement."

"Thank you," Hermione said with a blush.

Percy just smiled back. "There are, however, some old Ministry laws that have been brought up by your engagement. You are aware that Sirius Black named you his heir in his will?"

"Yes, that's why I had Grimmauld Place." Harry replied tightly. That memory still hurt.

"Well, that means you are now the new Lord Black as well as Lord Potter," Percy continued, "but that isn't all."

"Oh?" Hermione inquired.

"The final report that Shacklebolt gave to the Wizengamot revealed that Riddle was the last direct heir of the Gaunts," Percy explained, "who were in turn the last direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin. As such the Wizengamot has decided to grant Harry the title of Lord Slytherin by right of conquest."

Harry's eyes went out of focus for a moment. "They can do that?"

Percy shrugged. "The ink is still drying on the decree, so it seems so. They also decided to take advantage of the old rumour that the Potters were somehow related to Godric Gryffindor and have made you Lord Gryffindor as well."

Hermione frowned. "Was there ever a dynastic house of Gryffindor to begin with?"

Percy shrugged again. "I have no idea, and I'm guessing the Wizengamot just doesn't care. It wouldn't be the first noble house they've created from nowhere, just look at the Malfoys."

Harry nodded. "That makes a lot of sense, actually."

Percy picked up a piece of parchment. "And finally. thanks to the rumours of the Deathly Hallows, you've also been made Lord Peverell. Congratulations, Harry, you're now the head of five noble houses."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "The more I hear about the Wizengamot, the better I like fish."

Percy grinned in response. "I can understand that completely. Sadly there is a very real consequence to this rash of titles."

"Consequence?" Hermione asked with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, and you aren't going to like it." Percy replied as he picked up another piece of parchment. "Harry is now subject to the Line Continuation Act of 1640, also known as the LCA."

"The what?" Harry asked, baffled.

Percy focused on the parchment he held. "It's an act the Wizengamot passed that was intended to prevent noble houses from dying out completely. It applies when a noble house is reduced to just one legitimate heir, which certainly applies to Harry."

Hermione frowned again. "So what does it mean to Harry?"

Percy cleared his throat. "Well, first of all it allows Harry to take one wife for each of the families he is now the head of."

There was a moment of silence, before Hermione exploded. "You mean polygamy is legal in magical Britain?!"

Percy hesitated for a moment. "Well, only in this case. The LCA is the only act we know of that allows for polygamy, otherwise our laws on marriage are similar to muggle laws."

Hermione fumed. Harry stepped in before she could rant. "Is it compulsory?"

"No," Percy promptly replied, "it is just an option that you can choose to ignore."

"Let's do that." Hermione growled, glaring at Harry and Percy.

"Before you make a final decision..." Percy stated, "let me explain what the rest of the LCA has in it. Remember that this was to prevent the extinction of noble houses. To ensure that, the act mandates a certain number of children must be borne for each house."

"What?" Hermione said incredulously, looking slightly pale.

"It says so quite clearly," Percy said in a professorial tone, "the last heir must produce at least three male children and two female children for each house that he is the head of."

There was a moment of silence, which Harry broke. "Why?"

Percy shrugged. "To be honest I have no idea why those specific numbers. It probably had something to do with social expectations of the 17th century. The real point is that the law hasn't been changed since and these obligations will definitely apply to you."

"So you're saying that Harry has to have at least 25 children?!" Hermione half-shouted.

Percy nodded. "At least. Remember that each house needs three sons and two daughters, so Harry will have to keep...fathering children until he reaches those targets. There is one case from the 18th century where the family ended up with 11 sons before they managed to produce the requisite number of daughters."

Hermione paled even further, which led Harry to worry about her health.

"So, at least 25 children, possibly a lot more," she finally whispered.

"Yes. Which is why they put in a provision for multiple wives, I guess." Percy said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Hermione turned to Harry with a determined look on her face. "We'll start listing candidates and think about how we will approach people regarding this. Let's go, now."

Harry nodded as he stood. "I'll get back to you once I know more," he said to Percy as Hermione grabbed his arm to pull him from the room. Percy just waved as he returned his attention to his crowded desk.

* * *

**Author's note:** Just an idea I had for why somebody like Hermione might be willing to allow her husband a harem.

Some of my beta readers came up with alternatives that Hermione might try instead of resorting to a harem, the obvious being IVF and surrogate mothers. The obvious problem is that with a law drafted in the 17th century, provisions such as "legitimate issue" are pretty much a given.

There's also the old "leave Britain" plotline that many a fic has tried before, with almost as many methods used by the Ministry of Magic to thwart it. I'll leave that one to your collective imaginations.


	21. The Hogwarts Book

Disclaimer: I don't own the intellectual rights to any of the material referenced in the following story. At all.

* * *

Harry looked at his DADA Professor with a bemused expression. "Uh, what did you just say?"

Gilderoy Lockhart puffed up and did his best to look noble. "I wish to establish myself as a hero for the good wizards of Britain, so that I may protect them all from the forces of darkness!"

Harry blinked in astonishment. The man was obviously insane. "OK. So what do you want from me again?"

"Well, Harry," Lockhart said, "it is like this..."

Suddenly the DADA Professor waved his wand and a large number of miniature clones of the famous author appeared. Some were arranged as a choir, others were manning musical instruments. Before Harry could do anything, they started playing music. Then Lockhart started to sing.

(to the tune of "I Wan'na Be Like You (The Monkey Song)")

_Now, I'm the king of the wizards_

_Oh, the Hogwarts VIP_

_I've reached the top and had to stop_

_And that's what's botherin' me_

_I wanna be a hero, Harry_

_With fangirls flocking 'round_

_And piles of gold right in my vault_

_I'm tired of holdin' my ground_

_Oh, oobee doo (hoopdeewee) _

_I wanna be like you-hoo-hoo (hapdeedoobydoowop) _

_I wanna walk like you (cheep) _

_Talk like you too-oo-o (weebydeebydeewoo) _

_You'll see it's true (shoobedeedoo) _

_A wimp like me-e-e (scoobeedoobeedoobeep) _

_Can learn to be_

_Heroic too-oo-oo! _

At this point Lockhart started to dance, and was quickly joined by his chorus line of mini-Lockharts. Harry was forced to admit that it was an impressive dance sequence.

As the dance number started to wind down, Harry decided to humour the man in the hopes of getting away unharmed. "Gee, Professor, you're doing really well!"

Lockhart beamed at the Boy-Who-Lived, even as the music continued. "Now here's your part, Harry. Tell me the secret of your fame!"

Harry was bewildered. "But I don't know why I'm so famous."

Lockhart looked angry, and started singing again.

_Now, don't try to kid me, Harry_

_I made a deal with you_

_What I require is to be desired_

_To make my dream come true_

_Now gimme the secret, Harry_

_Come on, clue me what to do_

_Give me the secret of your fame_

_So I can be like you_

At this point Fawkes flamed in behind Lockhart, accompanied by Dumbledore. Lockhart did not notice the new arrivals, even as Fawkes started to sing along.

_Yoo-hoo-hoo! (hoopdeeweep)_

_I wanna be like you-oo-oo (hapdeedoobedoobop) _

_I wanna talk like you (cheep) _

_Walk like you (cheep), too-oo-oo (weebadeebadoodop)_

Albus Dumbledore finally intervened and made his presence known. Harry's relief was short-lived as the Headmaster started to sing as well.

_You'll see it's true-oo-oo (Shhobeedeeboo)_

_Someone like me-ee-ee (scoobeedoobeedooweep)_

_Can learn to be_

_Like someone like me _

_Take me home, daddy!_

_Can learn to be_

_Like someone like you_

_One more time!_

_Yeah!_

_Can learn to be_

_Like someone like me_

* * *

Harry looked around the street, fascinated that nobody seemed to notice the pair of wizards in full robes walking next to him. Apparently Sirius had managed to talk Remus into rescuing Harry from the Dursleys early this summer. Now Sirius seemed determined to give Harry some "proper Marauding knowledge." Whatever that meant.

"So, what is it that Marauders do?" Harry asked diffidently. Sirius beamed at him.

"I'm glad you asked, Harry!" the escaped prisoner exclaimed, waving his wand. Background music came out of nowhere, even as Remus slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. To Harry's astonishment, his godfather started singing.

(to the tune of "The Bare Necessities")

_Look for the Grim necessities_

_The simple Grim necessities_

_Forget about your worries and your strife_

_I mean the Grim necessities_

_Like old Marauder recipes_

_That brings the Grim necessities of life_

_Wherever I wander, wherever I roam_

_I couldn't be happier away from my old home_

_The maids are busy in the pub_

_To get me beer and lots of grub_

_When you look in the Indian takeaway_

_And take a pew at the vindaloo_

_Then maybe try a kebab_

At this point Harry burst out in shocked surprise, "You eat kebabs?!"

Sirius just grinned. "You better believe it!"

_The Grim necessities of life will come to you_

_They'll come to you!_

_Look for the Grim necessities_

_The simple Grim necessities_

_Forget about your worries and your strife_

_I mean the Grim necessities _

_That's why Marauders rest at ease_

_With just the Grim necessities of life_

_Now when you eat a Chocolate Frog_

_Or a Canary Cream_

_And you end up cheeping_

_Just don't whinge and scream_

_Don't take the Canary Cream for yourself_

_When you plan a prank_

_Try to fool a snake_

_But you don't need to fool a snake_

_When you find a Chocolate Frog to take_

_Have I given you a clue ?_

Harry nodded uncertainly, even as Remus appeared to be busy casting a Patronus charm at a pair of Dementors that had appeared out of nowhere.

_The Grim necessities of life will come to you_

_They'll come to you!_

_So just try and relax, yeah cool it_

_Fall apart in my backyard_

_'Cause let me tell you something little Prongslet_

_Acting like a Ravenclaw, uh uh_

_You're working too hard_

_And don't spend your time lookin' around_

_For something you want that can't be found_

_When you find out you can live without it_

_And go along not thinkin' about it_

_I'll tell you something true_

_The Grim necessities of life will come to you_

* * *

**Author's notes: **This abomination can be blamed on Clell, who came up with the idea of re-writing the Disney film adaptation of "The Jungle Book" in a Harry Potter setting.

"I Wan'na Be Like You (The Monkey Song)" was written by Robert and Richard Sherman.

"The Bare Necessities" was written by Terry Gilkyson.

Both songs appeared in the 1967 Disney animated film "The Jungle Book."


End file.
